Unrequited
by detective-sweetheart
Summary: ...and even if I did, you couldn't believe me if you tried...
1. Chapter 1

-1_"No one in their right mind could ever love you, Munch. You've been around that block too many times." _

Cold air hits his face as he steps out onto the precinct rooftop. But he doesn't care. Anything is better than being back in the squad room…better than listening to the others. He knows they think they're a musing when they say things like that to him. And most of the time, he can laugh it off. That is, however, when it's coming from the other guys.

This time, however, it's different. It's different because it wasn't one of the guys. It's different because it was her. It's different…because this time, it hurts. And so he stands here in what could be defined as 'city silence' trying to get rid of that hurt. But it won't go away. And he knows why. Even though he doesn't want to, he does. And that only makes it worse.

He leans against the railing that keeps him from physically falling, not at all surprised to feel tears sliding down his face from beneath his glasses. She's right. And as much as he hates to admit it, as much as he wants to believe that she didn't mean it, that it's because the case the squad is working has them all at each other's throats, he knows it. And it hurts because he loves her.

Taking off his glasses, he stows them momentarily in his pocket so that he can wipe at his eyes before sliding them back on. The city continues to move beneath him, and he watches, desperate for something…anything…to make her voice go away. But it insists on lingering. And he's made to face that she thinks no one can love him.

Of course, truth be told, he can't blame her, nor does he. Four marriages and as many divorces? Hell, even he doesn't see himself in a relationship anytime soon. And she…she has nothing to worry about. She has her partner, her companion of seven years. And she's happy. The last thing he wants is to take that away from her.

Footsteps alert him to someone else's presence and he realizes that he's been up here for a lot longer than he thought. Even so, he ignores the sound. At least until he catches the familiar scent of her…the one he can never place, but the one that he always seems to catch when she's around.

"You gonna stay up here forever?" she asks, her voice almost teasing as she pulls the jacket she's wearing closer around her. He recognizes it as her partner's and turns away.

"What do you want?" he asks, almost coldly, in reply. She looks at him strangely before answering.

"I want you to come inside before you freeze," she says. "Something bothering you?"

Annoyed by her flippancy, he stares down at the sidewalks. _"Yes,"_ he thinks, _"You're bothering me. Can't you just once let me be?"  
_  
"Hey," she says, upon not hearing an answer, "I asked you a question. You all right?"

"Why do you care?" he asks, suddenly whirling around to face her. "Why do you even give a damn?"

"Maybe I care because you've been up here for an hour without a coat or gloves, and you're gonna make yourself sick," she retorts.

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself," he tells her bluntly, "I don't need your pity."

"Who said anything about pity?" she asks. He doesn't answer. Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets before turning to glare at her.

"Why did you really come up here, Olivia?" he asks, his voice breaking on her name. "Did you come up here to add something else to what you said earlier, or did you come to rub it all in my face?"

His voice echoes with a surprising clarity, and she stares at him, startled. "Don't tell me you're still hung up on that," she says finally. He glares at her.

"Why?" he asks. "Because I'm not supposed to feel anything? Because I'm supposed to be unlovable?" His voice breaks further and he turns away so she can't see the tears that are welling up in his eyes again.

"Look at me," she says quietly. He shakes his head, unwilling to look her in the eye again for fear of what he'll do if he does. But she reaches out and touches his face, gently turning his head until their eyes meet. "This isn't just about what I said back there, is it?"

Her voice is quiet, almost comforting. And he wants to tell her everything…wants to tell her how he feels about her, but something holds him back.

"I…I can't," he says finally, almost choking on his words. "You wouldn't…you can't…"

"What?" she asks, her hand lingering on his face. "What can't you tell me, John? What can't I do?"

His eyes close then, reveling in the feel of her hand being where it is. But he knows it won't last. So he pulls away and smiles faintly at her, having already forgiven her for her earlier comments. After all, he's always hated to see her upset. And he knows that as long as he's annoyed with her, she will be. So he reaches out and brushes her hair out of her face before turning and heading back in one side, the answer to her question echoing in his mind.

_"I can't tell you that I love you, Liv. I can't because you already have someone who loves you…someone who you love. And even if I did…you couldn't believe me if you tried…you'd laugh. And that hurts more than knowing that you'll never love me back."_

A/N: Yeah, so...SVU's not mine, people...don't I wish it was, though...anyways...I left this open-ended on purpose, because I'm not sure where I want it to go, so bear with me...


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: For the record, LSM, you've gone and turned me into a temporary J/O shipper. I'm not sure whether I want to stay one yet, but even so, this chapter is for you.

* * *

They don't speak for days after the exchange on the precinct rooftop. And it doesn't help that in the squad room, his desk is right across from hers. Every time he looks up, he can see her. So he doesn't, instead choosing to stare down at his paperwork, even though he can't concentrate. Their silences is starting to grate on his nerves, but he isn't exactly sure he wants to be the one to break it. The phone rings, but he ignores it, and someone else answers. He doesn't see who it is, and honestly doesn't care. And it isn't until he sees her standing beside him that he looks up, forcing himself to look her in the eye.

"Take a ride with me," she says, and suddenly, he is quite aware of the fact that they are the only two left in the squad room. He lets his pen fall to the desk and continues to look at her.

"Why?" he asks, more to have something to say than anything else. She gives him an exasperated look and motions to the two empty desks before them.

"Because no one else is here, that's why," she says.

"I have paperwork," he replies vaguely. In all honesty, the last thing he wants to be doing is paperwork but he doesn't really want to be alone with her, either. At least here in the precinct there are other people around, but once they leave…he picks up the pen and looks down at the paperwork as if he really intends to get it done. She sighs and sits on the edge of his desk.

"Why are you doing this?" The question startles him and he looks up again; the pen slips from his fingers and falls to the floor, but neither of them make a move to retrieve it.

"Doing what?" he asks in reply. She glares at him.

"Avoiding me," she says. "Why are you avoiding me?"

"It's kind of hard to avoid you when you're sitting on my desk," he tells her.

"That's not what I meant." She runs a tired hand through her hair, sighing again as she continues. "You haven't even looked at me since…"

She trails off then, knowing that he knows where she's going with this. She never did apologize for what she'd said to him, for what had started this mess in the first place, and she wants to now, but not here, not in the middle of the precinct where her partner and his could return at any minute. Seconds tick by on the clock behind them and she waits for him to say something…anything. He eyes her for a moment before deciding to abandon the paperwork and reaches out behind him for his coat.

"Fine," he says, "Let's go." Relieved, she reaches for the keys in her pocket and together, they leave the squad room, an awkward silence settling between them.

It isn't until they're a ways from the precinct that she turns to face him momentarily. His eyes are focused in front of them, and though she has the feeling that he's not going to listen to her, she talks.

"You never did answer my question."

"What was it again?" He knows what it was. He's just asking because he can't think of anything else to say, and she knows it…but she repeats the question anyway.

"I asked why you've been avoiding me." Startled by the subtle note of sadness in her voice, he looks at her, but this time, she is the one looking forward.

"I think you already know why," he says. She looks at him then, briefly, before turning back to the road, her fingers tapping nervously on the steering wheel.

"Oh," she says, finally, quietly. "That."

And again, there is that damnable silence. He hates it, hates what it's doing to her, and what it's been doing to him ever since it happened. And before he even realizes what he's doing, he's reaching for her hand, tentatively, finding himself surprised when he feels her fingers lacing through his.

"I didn't mean it," she says, sounding for all the world as if her voice is that close to breaking. "It's just…I just…"

"Don't," he says, effectively cutting her off. "You don't have to apologize to me."

A look of relief crosses her face for the second time in an hour and they turn into a rather empty parking lot, where she turns off the car and looks at him.

"I really shouldn't have said that to you," she says.

"Don't worry about it," he tells her, "It's fine." She shakes her head.

"No," she says, "It's not. Not if it's going to keep things like this."

He wonders vaguely for a moment then whether or not she noticed that things have been this way between them for longer than she thinks. After a while, he figures that she probably hasn't and says nothing, content to just look at her. It doesn't take long for him to realize that there is something wrong.

"There something you want to tell me while we're here?" he asks. She looks over at him, smiling faintly, but there is something amiss in the expression.

"No," she says, "There's nothing." She's lying and he knows it. It's been more than obvious that her so called 'relationship' with her partner is starting to become strained at best. Everyone in the unit has noticed, especially him. He's always hated watching her looking so helpless, but he'd figured it was better to leave well enough alone. Now, however…now is different. And now that they're actually on speaking terms again, he figures that he might as well ask.

"He's doing it again, isn't he?" he says. She looks at him, torn between wanting to say that it's none of his damn business and wanting to tell him everything. She's always thought before that relationships are only supposed to be between the two involved, but with the way things are going, she's almost relieved that he's asked.

"Doing what?" she asks finally, even though she already knows what he's getting at.

"Ignoring you. Blowing you off. Being a jerk," he replies, eyeing her intently. She looks away, suddenly not wanting to face him, not wanting to talk anymore, but she's the one who initiated this conversation, and so there isn't any backing out.

"Yeah," she admits after a while. "He is." She closes her eyes and leans against the door, watching the raindrops streaking down the windshield. "It's…I don't know what it is anymore."

"You're probably never going to find out," he points out, and she glances at him momentarily before going back to watching the rain, an almost bitter laugh escaping her.

"I know." she says. "I know. I just…I wish he'd talk to me, you know? I wish he'd tell me what's going on."

A feeling of guilt settles over her as soon as the last word leaves her mouth. She shouldn't really be saying any of this to him, but it's gotten to the point where she has no one else to talk to, and it's getting old. And if no one else, she can at least count on him to listen to her, no matter how trivial the issue might seem.

"You know you're going to have to beat it out of him before he says anything, right?" he asks finally.

"That's the problem," she replies. "I don't…I don't want to have to resort to that for him to talk to me. I just…." She sighs, leans forward and hides her face in her hands without going on. He watches, suddenly uncomfortable with the way things are going. He doesn't want to talk about this, doesn't want to see her while she's miserable, but they're stuck here because she's driving, so he doesn't have a choice. And the fact that he can't be the one to do something about it makes it even worse.

"Liv...how long are you going to let him do this to you?" The question escapes him before he even realizes he'd been thinking it, and she looks at him, the expression on her face unreadable, even to him.

"You wouldn't get it, would you?" she asks, and he gives her a look, not wanting to get into that same roundabout argument again, the one that started all this in the first place.

"If you're going to start that again, you can take me back to the precinct and go wallow by yourself," he tells her, the words coming out more harshly than he'd meant them to. A look of hurt flashes across her face, momentarily, disappearing as quickly as it comes, but even so, he sees it, and leans back, closing his eyes and silently berating himself. Silence lingers and what seems like an eternity passes before she finally breaks it.

"I didn't mean it like that," she says tentatively, as if she's afraid of setting him off again. He looks at her over his glasses.

"So what exactly did you mean?" he asks. She doesn't answer, instead choosing to look away again, wanting to avoid the question but knowing that she can't and at the same time knowing that any answer she gives him might just send them back into silence.

"You…ah….I don't…I don't know how to put it," she starts, and he laughs, more to himself than at what she's said.

"I get it," he says. "It's because I haven't been with anyone in God only knows how long."

"No," she replies quickly, almost _too_ quickly, "That's not what I was…" He cuts her off, not meaning to be rude, even if it seems that he is.

"Yeah, it is," he tells her, "And I'm not going to stop talking to you this time, so just talk."

"Fine," she says, but nothing comes after that. She finds herself distracted by the rain again, and he waits, impatiently for her to speak.

"Do you think it's me?" she asks finally. He looks at her over his glasses, startled by the fact that she would think that and by the question itself. Suddenly at a loss for words, he falters, but an answer soon comes.

"No," he says. "Hell no. It's not you. It couldn't be you." He wonders vaguely for a moment after he says this whether or not this rather vehement opinion has anything to do with how he's slowly starting to realize what he feels about her. After a few seconds of deliberation he decides that, no, it doesn't. She hasn't done anything wrong, as far as he knows, it's all that idiot partner of hers, and at the moment, he's got half a mind to say something about it, even if it doesn't exactly seem like a good idea.

"Then why are things the way they are now?" she asks. "Why does it feel like he's trying to push me away? I don't…I don't get it anymore."

He wants to ask her why she's telling him all of this, why she's asking him questions that he can't possibly know the answer to, but he doesn't. There is a reason for everything, and even if her reasons for talking to him are because her partner never listens and he's the only one she can lean on, he doesn't care.

"No one ever said love was easy," he says after a while, "Every relationship is going to have its ups and downs."

She eyes him intently after this remark before deciding that for once, he isn't just being sarcastic. "Y'know, I'm starting to think that I should just break the whole thing off."

"Don't." If she's startled by this, he is probably even more so, but despite this, he continues. "Liv…even if it doesn't seem like Elliot needs you, he does. He's just being an idiot. He'll get over it sooner or later."

"You think?" She looks slightly cheered by this statement, though it's probably because she's assuming that he's right and that her partner _will_ get over it. When he looks at her eyes, he can see that the light has returned to them, and he hopes he's right…for her sake and for his own.

"Yeah, I do," he says finally, looking away from her and out the window at the streetlights turning the raindrops a strange shade of orange. "You two will work it out…it'll just take a while."

Silence lingers between them after this, but for the first time in a long while, it isn't the tense silence that it used to be. She turns the car on again at this point, and they leave the parking lot to head back towards the precinct, neither of them speaking. And when they get there, as they get out of the car, her cell phone rings, and she frowns, fishing it out of her pocket and flipping it open as he walks ahead, slowly, so that he can still her her voice drifting towards him.

"Benson." There's a pause as he pulls open the doors leading inside, and then he hears it: that subtle note of happiness that's been missing for far too long, all because her partner is on the other side of the line.


	3. Chapter 3

They've been forced into a stakeout. Normally, she'd be sitting here with her partner, but this time, she isn't. And she doesn't really want to be, either. They've been at each other's throats again lately, and she's been wanting for a break. But now that she has one, she's beginning to rethink it. Neither of them have said anything since they arrived at their destination, and that was nearly two hours ago.

"Don't tell me we're going to sit like this the entire night," she says finally, her voice seeming to echo through the car's interior. He turns to look at her.

"Like what?" he asks.

"Like this," she says. "Quiet. Not talking. Ignoring each other."

"I'm not ignoring you," he replies, and she rolls her eyes, leaning back so that she's comfortable.

"Feels like it," she says. He sighs and looks at her over his glasses.

"If you want to talk about something, just say it," he tells her. She looks at him for a moment before looking away and out her window.

"If you could be anywhere but here, where would you be?" The question startles him, and he stares at her in disbelief. If she thinks a game of Twenty Questions is going to get them anywhere, she's got a long way to go. But he can't think of anything better to do.

"I don't know," he says finally. "There isn't really anywhere I want to be."

She laughs. "Come on," she says, "There has to be somewhere."

"Home, then," she replies. "I'd be at home, trying to forget about all of this. Where would you be?"

An almost dreamlike expression crosses her face at this. "Europe, maybe," she says. "I don't know why….just seems like a place I'd want to visit."

"Anywhere is better than here," he tells her. "How long have we been waiting for this guy?"

"Long enough." She bites her lip as she falls silent, trying to think of another question. After a while, one comes.

"You ever wished on a star?"

The question is enough to make him laugh; she swats at him, a look of mock hurt crossing her face.

"Stop laughing," she says, "I meant it. Have you?" Even as she says it, she realizes that she doesn't _really_ want him to stop laughing. She rarely ever hears him doing it, and she's starting to think she likes the sound. But he does stop, slowly, and wipes at his eyes before replying.

"Once," he admits, "When I was a kid. Didn't do me any good, though." She can tell by the sudden tone his voice has taken on that he doesn't want her to press the issue, so she doesn't.

"You know, the point of this is to get to know each other," she comments. "You can ask questions, too."

"What's your favorite color?" he asks, smirking. She swats at him again, but misses and shakes her head.

"I don't really have one," she says. "I figure they're all worth looking at."  
"Even ones that don't really go together?" he asks. She gives him a look.

"You know what I mean," she says. He laughs again and leans back, glancing at the clock on the dashboard while she thinks.

"What's your favorite time of day?" she asks finally. He sighs and shifts in the seat so that he can see her clearly.

"Favorite time of day?" he repeats, and as she nods, he falls silent for a moment before answering. "Sunrise."

"Wow." The word escapes her before she realizes it, and before she can stop herself, the rest of what she's thinking comes as well. "That's the last thing I expected from you."

"Why is that?" he retorts mildly, and she looks away, silently berating herself for once again sticking her foot in her mouth.

"What, I have to have a reason now?" she asks. He eyes her intently for a long while, and finally, she answers.

"It just doesn't seem like you," she tells him. "I'd have thought it would be sunset."

She doesn't have to tell him the reason for thinking this; he already knows. He shifts again, this time uncomfortably before deciding to change the subject.

"What are some of the things people have said about what you do for a living?" She glances at him for a moment before chuckling softly to herself.

"You really want to know?" she asks, and he nods. She sighs, and runs a hand through her hair.

"Well, for starters, there's the standard comment that there has to be something wrong with me in order for me to do this," she says. Silence falls, and then she continues. "And then there are the people who say I'm 'tainted' and 'perverted' and…." She trails off again, and this time, she doesn't continue, but he gets the point.

"What do you say to them?" he asks. She gives a derisive snort.

"What's there to say, Munch?" she asks in reply. "It's not going to matter what I tell them, they're going to think what they want."  
"Well, what do you think?" Caught off guard by being asked for her opinion, she falters for a moment before finding something to say.

"I don't know anymore," she admits. "Part of me just wants to ignore them because I know I'm doing good, but the other part thinks they're right."

"They're not," he tells her bluntly. "To tell you the truth, I can't believe you'd even consider that they might be."

"You might think the same if you were the one listening to them," she shoots back.

"The key is to ignore them," he says. "If you know you're doing good, then why should it matter what other people think?" She gives him an annoyed look.

"Why'd you ask, then?" she demands. He shrugs.

"Couldn't think of anything else," he replies. She narrows her eyes at him, but doesn't say anything. The digits on the clock change again, and she leans against the door, closing her eyes.

"What do you think drives people apart?" He resists the sudden, mad desire to bring this little game to an end at this question and shakes his head.

"Little things," he says quietly. "Maybe they don't have anything in common anymore, or they're not talking as much as they used to. Maybe their lives are getting the way, or their careers, and one or both of them are too stubborn to give it up for the other's sake."

"You really think that's what it is?" she asks, and he nods, closing his eyes and sighing.

"What else could it be?" he asks in reply. "What else could drive two people to the point where they can't even look at each other anymore?"

She'd figured that he would be the one to have an opinion on that particular issue. After all, his so-called 'track record' isn't exactly a secret. What she hadn't expected was to hear a subtle note of misery in his voice as he answered.

"What made you want to become a cop?" she asks, suddenly desperate to change the subject to something…anything else.

"Well, it's certainly better than being a defense attorney," he quips, in an effort to make it seem as if he hadn't really cared about what she'd just asked. It doesn't fool her. She eyes him intently, quietly, waiting for a serious answer, and after a few seconds of awkward silence, he gives her one.

"I wanted to feel like I was doing something…making a difference," he tells her. "I didn't want to just sit there at some desk, feeling like I was worthless."  
"I don't think anyone could ever think of you as worthless," she says dryly, and he gives a bitter laugh.

"You'd be surprised," he tells her. "What made _you _want to be a cop?" She laughs.

"A lot of things," she says. "I couldn't really tell you which one was the real driving force."

The hour changes then, and both of them look at the clock. It's midnight, the beginning of a new day, and still, they're here, waiting for yet another criminal…yet another person who dares break the law they try so hard to uphold.

"How much longer do you think we're going to be out here?" he asks. She eyes him for a moment before shaking her head.

"What, you mean like a bet?" she asks. "I don't think so." He rolls his eyes at her.

"No," he says, "I don't mean like a bet. I just want to know how much longer you think we're going to be here."

She shrugs. "Couple of hours, maybe," she says. "Hopefully, it won't be that long and we can just nail this guy and go back to the precinct."

"What do you think you're going to do after that?" he asks.

"I have no idea," she tells him. "I'm probably just going to go home and collapse. I feel like I haven't slept in years. What are you going to do?"

"Probably the same," he says vaguely, but she knows better, and he knows it. Even so, she says nothing, content to leave it at that. Wind makes the shadows outside move, and both of them watch, momentarily transfixed, until the streetlights above them flicker, causing both of them to jump.

"Look at us," she says, laughing softly. "We're supposed to be cops and we're jumping at a flickering streetlight."

"I think even the best of us jump at things we're not expecting," he tells her, an amused look crossing his face.

"I guess that's why they say 'expect the unexpected'," she remarks, smirking. He chuckles and turns to look out his window. A figure moving through the shadows catches his attention and he reaches out to poke her in the side. She swats at his hand.

"What?" she asks, trying and failing to sound annoyed. He motions out the window, and she squints in order to see.

"You think that's our guy?" he asks. She leans across him so that she can see better and he leans back so as not to be so close to her. After a few seconds, the figure steps into the light, and she nods.

"Yeah. It's him." She moves back over to her side and pushes the car door open slowly; he follows suit, and together, they move, slowly, so as not to alert their suspect to their presence. It is right before they walk up behind him that she turns and in a whisper asks him what will be the hardest question yet.

"Have you ever loved someone you knew you couldn't have?"

* * *

A/N: Wow. This is getting longer than I thought it would be. Anyways...before I start ranting, I'm going to go. 


	4. Chapter 4

The unit has been stuck with another high-profile case. And as luck would have it, the two of them have been stuck together on it. He's been acting more than slightly aloof with her ever since she asked him that question the night of the stakeout, and though he hasn't been avoiding her completely, she wants to know why.

"You never did answer that question I asked you," she says to him as they leave the precinct to head to the medical examiner's office.

"I don't see why I should have to," he replies mildly. "I'm starting to think that questions like that should be off-limits."

"Why?" she asks. "That's half the fun…getting people to answer stuff they wouldn't normally."

"It just seems a little inappropriate," he says, but it's a feeble effort to get out of answering, and both of them know it. She pokes at him as she makes the turn that will take them to their destination.

"How is it inappropriate?" she asks. "It's just two detectives working the same unit trying to get to know each other."

"You'd do better to do this with your partner," he tells her, "He'd probably be a lot more willing to answer this." She makes a face.

"I doubt it," she says. "This is probably the last thing he'd want to be doing." He gives her a look of mock annoyance.

"So, you're only doing this to me because you think Elliot wouldn't want to answer all these questions? That's great, Liv."

She turns into the parking lot and shuts off the ignition, taking off her seatbelt before looking at him and shaking her head. "You have, haven't you?" she asks.

"I've what?" he asks in reply, feigning innocence, but she knows better, and she shakes her head, laughing.

"You've been in love with someone you couldn't have, that's what," she says. "Don't lie about it, either."

"Fine," he replies, "I won't. I have. And no, I won't tell you who it is, either." She shrugs, seemingly satisfied with the answer he's given.

"I don't want to know who it is," she says, with that air that tells him she's lying and that she really does want to know. "I just wanted to know whether or not you had."

"You know, I don't think I like this game anymore," he remarks. She eyes him as they walk inside and shakes her head.

"Don't tell me you're going to start being a baby about this," she warns, "Otherwise I'll just have to find someone else to do this to."

"I don't think Fin will take too well to this, either," he tells her. "It tends to make one feel as if they're being interrogated."

"Munch," she says, "If I were interrogating you, you'd know it…trust me. This is nothing."

"Nothing, she says," he mutters dryly as they walk into the morgue. "You're prying into my personal life and you call this nothing?"

"I'm hardly prying into your personal life," she tells him. "You have every right not to answer these questions, but you are."

"Yeah, well…" He trails off, mostly because he no longer has an argument, but also because Melinda has just come into view. She eyes them both for a moment before proceeding to give them the information that they've come for. As usual, it only takes a few minutes and then the two detectives are on their way again. Once outside, he looks at his watch.

"Liv?" he says, and she looks over at him absently, fishing through her pockets for the keys.

"What?" she asks in reply.

"You want to go and grab a coffee or something? I don't think anyone will miss us for a while." he says. She glances at her own watch and then offers up a faint smile as she looks at him.

"Sounds like a plan," she says, "Where were you thinking about going?" He shrugs, reaching out and tugging the keys from her grip.

"Hey," she says in protest, "I'm driving." He shakes his head, smirking.

"Not this time," he says. "Besides, I have someplace in mind, and I don't think you know where it is."

When they reach the car, he pulls the passenger side door open for her and waits until she gets in before closing it and walking over to the driver's side and getting in.

"No one's done that for me in a while," she remarks, and he looks at her as he turns the car on.

"What?" he asks. "Opened a door for you?" She nods, looking down as a faint blush crosses her face. He shakes his head again, chuckling softly.

"Well, you know, chivalry isn't completely dead yet," he says. "At least, I'd like to think it's not."

"You're just old," she teases. "You were probably raised to do stuff like that." He glances at her as they leave the parking lot, for some reason fighting the desire to laugh.

"You're right," he tells her, "I was, and I can't for the life of me see why it's managed to stick with me."

She laughs. "I think I like this side of you," she remarks, before she can stop herself. He looks at her as they come to a stoplight a ways from the parking lot.

"What side?" he asks.

"This one," she says. "You're not…you're not so _cold_, like you don't want anything to do with anyone."

"Is that really what you think of me?" he asks quietly, and once again she realizes that she's stuck her foot in her mouth.

"I didn't mean it like that," she says. "I just meant that it always seems like you'd rather be alone than with someone."

"Everyone has their moments like that, Liv," he says.

"Well, it feels like you have those moments more often than everyone else," she says. "It gets to the point where people are bound to start asking questions."

"Like you?" he asks in reply. She looks at him for a moment before reaching out and taking his free hand in her own.

"Yeah," she says softly, "Like me." Silence falls between them then, and suddenly, he feels awkward, as if they've somehow managed to cross the line of friendship without really doing anything. Her grip on his hand tightens when he tries to pull away and he looks at her.

"Do I have to remind you that you're in a relationship or can you remember that on your own?" he asks finally.

"Sarcasm will get you nowhere," she tells him. "I know I'm in a relationship, but that doesn't mean we can't be friends."

"Yeah," he says absently, "It doesn't, does it?" She offers up another faint smile as she looks at him. He gets the feeling then that she can see right through him, and he isn't sure he wants her to.

"You have a favorite song?" he blurts after a few seconds of silence, and she shakes her head, laughing.

"Favorite song?" she asks. "Come on, Munch, is that the best you can come up with?"

"It's not even ten in the morning," he points out. "And not only that, but you and I were both up for most of last night trying to do our jobs."

"Good point," she says, covering her mouth as she yawns. "Are we anywhere near that place you were talking about?"

"Few more minutes," he tells her. "Now, are you going to answer me or what?" She wrinkles her nose as she thinks for a minute, going through all of the songs she knows and all the songs she's heard and trying to figure out which is her favorite. After a while, she decides to just blurt an answer.

"Unchained Melody." He stares at her for a few minutes since they've come to yet another stoplight, trying to determine whether or not she's serious. She stares back at him, somehow managing to hold his gaze, and after a while, he looks away.

"You're really serious about that, aren't you?" he asks.

"Yes," she says defensively, "I am. Do you have a problem with that?" He shakes his head.

"No," he says, "I don't. As a matter of fact, I actually like that song myself." She chuckles.

"Who'd have thought?" she asks. He rolls his eyes and pulls into yet another parking lot before looking at her again.

"What?" he says. "I'm not allowed to like love songs?" She lets go of his hand and pushes the car door open.

"I didn't say that," she says. "You're perfectly entitled to like whatever songs you want."

"Then why are you acting like it's so strange for me to like that song in particular?" he demands, following her out of the car. He glances at her over the roof before going on. "Is it just because you like that song?"

"Maybe," she says vaguely. "I just never really thought of you as the kind of guy that liked that kind of song."

"Liv," he says, shaking his head, "How do you think I get all those women to go out with me?"

"I'm hurt," she says, pulling her coat closer around her. "I thought I was the first girl you brought here."

"You are," he tells her, walking over to her side of the car and gently pushing her forward. She starts to walk and turns her head to look at him.

"I am?" she asks, sounding almost startled, and he allows a faint smile to cross his face as they draw nearer to the door.

"Yeah," he says, "You are. But don't let it go to your head, there might be others after you."

She smirks. "Knowing you, that's probably true," she says, "But that's not the point. The point is that I was the first one."

"Aren't you conceited?" he asks mockingly, opening the door and ushering her inside. She laughs and reaches behind her to swat at him.

"Yes, and you love me for it, too," she says. He follows her inside, startled by what she's just said, and wondering whether or not she really has managed to see right through him.

"Hey," she says, snapping her fingers in front of his eyes. "I'm going to go order. What do you want?"

"No," he says, "_You_ are going to sit down somewhere. I'll go order. What do you want?"

She shrugs, an almost mischievous grin crossing her face as she goes to find someplace for them to sit. "Surprise me."

* * *

A/N: Wow. This really is longer than I thought it would be. This is actually the first chaptered fic that I've been able to do on my own, see, usually one of my friends helps write them, but the friend that normally helps doesn't like this pairing, so now I'm just going to shut up and go.


	5. Chapter 5

Rain starts to fall the second she pushes the roof access door open, but she doesn't care. It's only a light drizzle now, and though she knows it'll get worse as time goes by, she steps outside, letting the door close behind her. It isn't until she's leaning against the guardrails and staring down at the city that she realizes it's cold and that she left her coat inside. But at the moment, she's so irritated that she doesn't really care…and it's all her partner's fault…again.

She hates this…hates feeling like they're getting somewhere one day only to feel as if everything's gone backwards the next. But both of them are stubborn and she knows that it'll take a miracle for either one of them to back down, especially since both of them think they're right. She wishes that she could talk to him the way she used to be able to, but things have become so difficult between them that she wonders whether or not it'll ever happen.

A bottle shatters below her. She looks over the guardrail but all she sees is a never-ending mass of people going in different directions. Whoever dropped the bottle is long gone, leaving nothing more than broken glass behind. She closes her eyes for a moment, wanting nothing more than to just leave everything behind, and for a few minutes, she does. But when she opens her eyes again, she's back in the city, back in the rain and back to facing the reality that this time, things might not work out.

When the door creaks open, she ignores it, determined to ignore whoever's come after her, but whoever it is doesn't speak until he's standing right behind her.

"Thought I might find you up here."

"Go away, Munch." The blatant dismissal was expected; he can tell by looking at her that this is one of those times where she'll act like she wants to be alone, but he knows that she really doesn't, and so he stays.

"I brought your coat up," he says. "Thought you might need it." She turns to face him then, and he slides it onto her shoulders. She draws it closer around her and closes her eyes again, a low sigh escaping her.

"I don't get it," she tells him finally. "I thought things were getting better."

He knows better than to tell her that the rest of the squad thought the same thing, and so he says nothing. She looks up at him.

"What?" she asks softly. "You don't have anything to say this time?" He sighs and reaches out almost impulsively to brush a stray lock of hair out of her eyes.

"I don't know what to tell you, Liv," he says. "This isn't any of my business in the first place…I might only end up making things worse."

She gives a derisive snort. "Things can't get any worse than they already are," she scoffs, motioning downwards, to where they both know the squad room is. "I can't even talk to him anymore. I can't even _look _at him anymore without wanting to scream."

"I don't think this is any easier for him," he tells her. "I think you both have a few issues you need to work out before things can go anywhere."

"That really helps," she says sarcastically. "I already know we have issues. What I _don't_ know is how to help him get over his." Her voice breaks on the last word. "How am I supposed to figure it out if he won't talk to me?"

He says nothing. In all honesty, there isn't really anything that he _can_ say. At least, nothing that won't make her feel worse than she already does. He figures that he should know enough about what drives a relationship to this point to tell her what she needs to know, but for unknown reasons, he finds himself drawing a blank.

"So what are you going to do?" he asks quietly. She turns and leans back against the guardrails, sighing.

"I don't know," she admits. "And it scares me. I don't…I don't want to lose him, but I can't keep doing this."

"No one expects you to," he says, finally starting to regain his bearings. "Maybe you two just need a break from each other."

She gives a bitter laugh. "And what good is that going to do?" she asks. "You know how he is, the minute he sees me with someone else, he's going to have a fit."

"Tell him to get over it," he says bluntly. "It's none of his business who you're seeing unless it's him."

"You really think telling him that is going to do any good?" she asks dryly. "If anything, it'll make it worse."

"Why do I have the feeling you're not telling me something?" he asks in reply, in an effort to change the subject. She sighs, running a hand through her hair and successfully ruffling it.

"You want to know why I've been giving you the runaround when you want to talk." she says, more of a statement than the question that it was intended to be.

"Well…yeah." he admits. He's learned, over the past few days, what it was like for her when things were the other way around, but he can't remember saying anything to hurt or otherwise annoy her. And he doesn't like not talking to her any more than she likes not talking to him.

"He asked me if there was something going on," she says quietly. "Between you and me, I mean."

"He _what_?" He stares at her, unwilling to believe what he's just heard, even if it's only because he can't believe that her partner would even _think_ to ask her something like that. She doesn't repeat the question, knowing that he's not asking her to, and he shakes his head in disgust, starting to pace back and forth.

"I can't believe he'd say that to you," he says finally. "How he can even _think_ something like that is just…" He trails off, annoyed, but not at her. "What'd you tell him?"

"What do you think I told him?" she demands, suddenly irritated with him as well. "Do you really think I'd do that to him?"

"No," he says, "No, I don't. And that's not what I meant. I just…Where does he get off thinking that about you?"

"That's what I'd like to know," she says mildly, turning to look down at the city. "I asked him about it and he wouldn't say anything."

"I wonder why," he mutters acidly. "Probably didn't want to run the risk that someone was listening."

"Munch, really," she says, "When _isn't_ someone listening around here?" She has a point there, and he knows she does, so he falls silent and shakes his head again.

"So, that's it?" he asks her finally. "You're just going to sit here and let him walk all over you like this?"

"He's not walking over _anything,_" she retorts. She opens her mouth to continue, but he cuts her off, scowling.

"Yeah, Liv, he is," he says bluntly. "He's been walking all over you since this started. And your letting him is only making him think that he's got a right to treat you this way, and he doesn't!"  
"What makes you so sure of that?" she demands. "Maybe I don't have a problem with the way this is going!"

"If you didn't have a problem, you wouldn't be up here, and you wouldn't be upset," he points out. She glowers at him.

"I don't need this," she tells him finally. "I'm already getting enough of it from him, and I don't want it from you, too."

"Then open your eyes," he retorts. "You can't tell me you haven't noticed how miserable you've been lately."

"Maybe I haven't," she snaps. "Maybe I'm just used to feeling this way, and maybe I just don't care anymore."

"You care," he says. "If you didn't, you wouldn't be getting so defensive, and you wouldn't be taking your frustrations out on me, _again._"

"If you don't want to listen to me, then don't." She pulls her coat closer around her as the rain starts to pick up and looks down at the city, trying almost desperately to drown out everything else around her, wanting more than anything to forget it all, this conversation, the situation with her partner…everything.

"I didn't say I don't want to listen to you," he tells her quietly. "I do want to. If you want to talk, I'm here, Liv, I just….I can't watch this anymore."  
"Why?" she asks. And there's the question that he's been waiting for, and the one he's been dreading at the same time. It's become almost like their defense mechanism: whenever things become uncomfortable or awkward, one of them blurts out a random question. But this time is different. This time, the situation is both uncomfortable and awkward, and the question isn't random. He moves so that he's standing beside her and looks to where she's looking before answering.

"Because I know you deserve better than this," he says. "Even if you don't, I do, and I can't stand seeing you like this _because_ I know that."

She looks at him then, startled by what she's heard, and rather unsure as to whether or not she's heard him right. When she doesn't say anything, he takes her hand in his own, and they stand there, ignoring the weather even as thunder cracks loudly in the distance.

"We should…we should probably head inside." he remarks after a while, "I have the feeling this is only going to keep getting worse."

"Did you mean it?" she asks him, suddenly finding her voice again and startled by hearing it. He looks at her as he leads her to the door that will take them back into the precinct where it's dry and smiles faintly.

"Yes," he tells her, "I meant it." And there is that silence again. Thunder cracks again; she jumps and he draws her against him, as if to shield her, as lightning comes and illuminates their faces.

And in that instant, without thinking, she closes her eyes and reaches up to kiss him.

* * *

A/N: Ok, before I start having to dodge flying objects, let me just say that this fic is being written in response to a challenge that I thought I'd forgotten about, but it turns out I hadn't, so I just started writing on this fic again, and I'm not exactly sure how it's going to go from here, so bear with me. And damn, that was a long sentence...:random:


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Ok, LSM...the long awaited (not really) chapter six. Again, this one is for you. I think I've gotten more ideas for this story/pairing than I have for any other story/pairing. You might just make a J/O shipper of me yet.

* * *

He disappears for a few days after that second incident. None of those that remain in the squad room know where he is; they have the feeling that the captain knows, but he isn't saying anything, and somehow they all know better than to ask. For some reason, the squad room seems empty without him, as if it isn't complete without all four of them there. She's trying to concentrate on her paperwork, since there aren't any cases to close as of yet, but instead, she finds herself twirling her pen between her fingers and staring over at Munch's desk ever so often. 

"What, does he owe you money or something?" Elliot's voice breaks into her thoughts, and she turns to look at him, slowly realizing that she's been caught. She would've jumped; but she knows that in itself could give her away and confirm Elliot's suspicions.

"No," she says. "I'm just tired." _Hopefully, you'll buy that,_ she adds silently. When he doesn't say anything, she looks over at him only to find that he's gone back to his paperwork again. The phone rings and she reaches for it, almost automatically. A voice on the other side alerts her to yet another case that they'll have to solve; after being given the information she needs, she hangs up and reaches for her coat.

"Where are you going?" Elliot asks, looking up after noticing that she's no longer sitting at her desk.

"Crime scene," Olivia tells him placidly. "You didn't hear the phone ring?"

"I did, but that doesn't mean anything," he replies. Olivia looks at him as if she is sizing him up for a fight, then leaves. Before she's out of the precinct, she hears footsteps behind her and turns to find him following her.

"Thought the phone didn't mean anything," she says coolly. He gives her a look.

"It's eleven o'clock at night," he says.

"And your point is?" she asks in reply. "I'm a cop, Elliot. I can take care of myself."

"Then what's the point of having a partner?" he asks her. She rolls her eyes and pushes the door open before he can do it for her. Wind comes rushing at them and she pulls her coat closer around her.

"I don't know," she says, "You tell me." He casts her an annoyed glance before taking the keys from her grip and walking off before she can say anything. She runs after him and when she's within hearing distance, she swats at him.

"What's your problem?" she asks. Elliot looks at her over the car's roof before pulling the door open and getting in without answering. Scowling, Olivia follows suit, glaring at him as she fastens her seat belt so they can leave.

"You gonna answer me or not?" she demands.

"I don't have a problem," he tells her shortly. "Where are we going?" Annoyed, she shoves the address at him and turns to look out the window. Silence lingers between them until they're halfway there.

"You ok?" It's the first time in a long while that she's heard him sound concerned about her, and she turns to face him.

"Yeah," she says, "I'm fine. Let's just get there."

When she doesn't continue, Elliot turns to look at her as they come to a stop at a red light.

"I can take you home if you want," he says finally.

"I'm fine," Olivia says again. "We almost there?"

"Yeah," Elliot replies, and again, there is silence. It disappears when they reach the scene. Already, there is a large crowd on the outside of the crime scene tape. CSU is present, and so is M.E. Warner.

"What do you think?" Olivia asks, forgetting for a moment that she isn't with Munch and motioning to the crowd as they get out of the car. "How many of them know something?"  
"Probably not many," says Elliot, glancing at her strangely. "When do they ever? They're just here for the show."

His sudden cynicism surprises her, but she says nothing and instead follows him across the tape and towards Melinda.

"She was strangled," the medical examiner tells them bluntly. "More than likely raped."

"Any signs of fluids?" Olivia asks in reply. Melinda shakes her head.

"Nothing," she says. "Your guy must've thought to use protection. I'll be able to tell you more in the morning." She motions to a few of her assistants standing nearby; within minutes, they are gone and so is the body.

"Anything?" Elliot's voice startles her out of her reverie, and she looks up at him, shaking her head.

"Not till morning," she replies. "What about CSU?"

"Same," he says. The streetlights glint off the keys in his hands; he looks down at them and sighs. "Let's get out of here."

"Sounds like a plan." She hates this…hates always feeling like she's in cop mode when she's talking to him, or when they're alone together. She figures that they should at least be able to act as if they have more than just a partnership. But she knows that if she's stubborn, Elliot is worse. Neither of them are ever going to admit that they might be wrong.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Elliot says once the crime scene is out of their sights. Olivia turns in her seat to look at him, sighing.

"Why do you think people always gather at crime scenes?" she asks in reply. He makes a face.

"Come on, Liv," he says, "Why would you want to think about that?" She shrugs.

"Because that's what we see at every crime scene," she replies. "Why would people want to do that to themselves?"

"I don't know," Elliot replies, keeping his eyes on the road before them. "They probably get their kicks from being there…watching us work. Cheap form of amusement."

"Don't you find that disturbing?" she asks, and Elliot casts her a puzzled look. It's then that she realizes that she's doing the questions thing again, and with the wrong person. She sighs again and runs a hand through her hair.

"Never mind," she says. "You don't have to answer it if you don't want to." She's almost hoping that he won't want to…a feeling of guilt has settled over her, and though she finds it ridiculous, it won't go away. But Elliot doesn't notice, and as he turns, he answers.

"Yeah," he says, "I do. One would think people would be frightened by a crime scene instead of fascinated by it. What do you think?"

Olivia eyes him for a moment, tempted not to answer him, but they haven't really had a civil conversation since he asked her if something was going on with Munch, so she figures she might as well take this chance and run.

"I think it's sick," she says. "Maybe if we didn't shield them from seeing the bodies, they'd stop coming….they'd stop making our jobs harder."

"I'll say," says Elliot. "The thing I hate about that is that none of them ever seem to know anything until a week into the investigation, and by then, we're going around in circles because they didn't tell us in the first place."  
"It does get annoying," Olivia says absently, distracted by the shadows dancing on her arm, cast by the streetlights and the objects around them. Elliot glances at her as they come to the second red light since they left and sighs.

"Mind telling me what's so interesting about those shadows?" he asks. Olivia looks up, chuckling softly to herself.

"Nothing, really," she says. "They're just something to look at…there isn't exactly anything else."

"You want to go back to the precinct or do you want to get something to eat?" Elliot asks.

"Let's grab something to eat," Olivia replies, suddenly hungry. "I haven't had anything all day."

"You gotta quit doing that to yourself," Elliot remarks as he turns to go towards what has, over the past few months, become their favorite place to go. She snorts.

"You're one to talk," she says. "We catch one of those high-profile cases and it's all I can do to get you to leave the squad room."

"That's not true," he protests as they get out of the car to go inside. "I leave the squad room."

"Yeah, only when I make you," she tells him. "You're worse than I am when it comes to that."  
"Am I?" he asks, pulling the door open for her and waiting until she's completely inside before following. "Prove it."

"I don't have to prove it," she says, taking her coat off. "You can go ask anyone in the squad."

It is when they're sitting down across from each other that Olivia realizes that she no longer feels as if she's in cop mode. In fact, she feels comfortable, almost relaxed…the first time she's felt this way with Elliot in a long time. With this in mind, she eyes him for a long moment, saying nothing. He notices and raises an eyebrow.

"What'd I do to get that look?" he asks. She rolls her eyes and pushes at his feet under the table .

"Nothing," she says. "You didn't do anything. I'm just looking at you. I can still do that, right?"  
"Last time I checked, you could still see," Elliot replies. She shakes her head.

"Why do I put up with you?" she asks. He grins.

"Because you're my partner and you don't have a choice," he says. She smirks.

"I wouldn't bet my life on that if I were you," she says teasingly. "I could always ask Cragen to stick me with someone else, and then where would you be?"

"You wouldn't, would you?" Elliot asks, suddenly serious. Olivia eyes him again and shakes her head, sighing.

"No," she says, "I wouldn't. You know that. I'm just saying that if you really want to think about it, I do have a choice."

"But you wouldn't ask Cragen to put you with someone else?" Elliot asks again, and when she looks him in the eye, she can see that he's afraid of what she might tell him this time.

"No," she says again, "I wouldn't. I'm too used to you to work with anyone else long-term, and besides, I doubt Munch or Fin would stop you from going overboard on someone."

"I think they would," Elliot counters, "Because if they didn't, it'd just get them in trouble."

"Yeah, but guys aren't always inclined to think that way," says Olivia. She takes a sip from the glass that had just been placed in front of her and continues. "You're more likely to cover up something than admit it outright."

"So, now we're all corrupt, is that it?" Elliot asks, laughing. "I ought to tell IAB that theory and see what they say."

"Thought you hated IAB," says Olivia.

"I do," says Elliot, "But that…that's something worth telling them, just to see how they'd react."

"Yeah, I can see that," Olivia remarks. "They'd probably have a fit about it."

"Seeing as they tend to think our entire unit is up to something," Elliot says in reply, and she laughs.

Before either of them realize it, they're looking at their watches, paying the tab and getting up to leave. She pulls her coat closer around her as they step out into the cold, her thoughts going too fast for her to keep up with them. Elliot glances at her as they walk towards where they've parked and slides a tentative arm around her waist. She moves closer to him, smiling faintly.

"You know, I've missed this," he remarks, quietly enough so that only she can hear him.

"Missed what?" she asks.

"This," he says, motioning to himself and then to her. "Being able to talk without getting into a shouting match, you know?"

"Yeah," she says, moving closer to him than she already is. "I know…I missed it, too."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Ha! I finally finished chapter seven so now I can post it! And now you can read it. Bored, I think you and LSM just turned me into a J/O shipper, so this one is for you...

* * *

"I'm starting to think something's wrong." Fin leans back in his chair, having decided to abandon what remains of his paperwork and glances at the other set of detectives. "Any of you heard from Munch lately?"

"No," Olivia replies absently. "He hasn't been answering the phone." Elliot pushes at her foot with his own and she looks up at him.

"What?" she asks.

"How do you know he hasn't been answering the phone?" he asks in reply. She rolls her eyes.

"Because I called him," she replies, "You jealous?" Elliot snorts.

"Of him?" he says. "Yeah, right." Olivia casts him an annoyed look, fighting the sudden, mad desire to kick him under the desks.

"There's a fine way to talk about a colleague," she mutters sarcastically. Fin glances at them for a few seconds before deciding to break in.

"You guys got any idea where he might've gone?" He asks.

"Obviously he doesn't want us to know," Olivia replies. "Why do you care all of a sudden?"

"Because he's my partner and he's been gone for almost two weeks," Fin replies. "You think I don't notice he's not here?"

"How could you not?" Elliot asks dryly. "The squad room's been that much quieter without him around."

"What is wrong with you today?" Olivia demands, glaring at him as Fin returns to his paperwork.

"Nothing's wrong with me," Elliot retorts. "What, I'm not allowed to comment on the state of the squad room anymore?"

"Not if you're going to be rude about it. Do you think he'd be sitting here making comments about you if you were the one who was gone?"

"Knowing Munch, that's more than likely."

"I can't believe you."

"Can't believe what, Olivia? That I just might not like the guy?"

"You're only saying that because you _think_ something's going on, and there's _not._"

A commotion in the captain's office makes them realize that their voices have risen past normal and they fall silent, glaring at each other. When the phone finally rings, neither of them reach for it. Fin eyes them and waits as it rings a second and then a third time before answering it himself. After he hangs up, he moves to leave the squad room and motions for Elliot to come with him.

"Good riddance," Olivia mutters angrily. Elliot casts her an irritated scowl before following Fin out just as the door to the captain's office opens.

"Olivia." She looks up from the photo array on her desk and sighs as she turns. Cragen stands in the doorway of his office, eyeing her concernedly as he continues. "You have a minute?"

"Yeah." She runs a tired hand through her hair and rises to her feet. "What's up?"

"Come into my office," Cragen replies vaguely. She does, and closes the door behind her, leaning against it as she looks at him.

"What's up?" she asks again.

"I want you to find Munch," he replies flatly.

"Wait a minute," she says startled. "Are you saying you don't know where he is?"

"Yes," comes the reply, "That's exactly what I'm saying, and that's why I want you to find him."

Silence falls after this and Olivia closes her eyes. "Why not Fin?" she asks, before she can stop herself. Cragen eyes her suspiciously for a moment, but says nothing…at least not at first.

"Fin just left," he says, "And so did Elliot. That leaves you."

"I noticed," she replies mildly. "And I'm starting to think that this might just be happening on purpose."

"Well, it's not, so don't get your hopes up," Cragen says bluntly. "None of us have heard from him in two weeks and it's high time we did, so I'm asking you to find him."

"And if I say no?"  
"Then I'll make it an order." Olivia gives an exasperated sigh and runs her hand through her hair again.

"Fine," she says, pushing herself off of the door and pulling it open. "I probably won't be back for a while."

She closes the door again as she walks out of the office. The squad room is empty save for her, just as it had been when she'd gone in. She looks at her watch and sighs, grabbing her coat and putting it on before she leaves.

Before she knows it, she's standing right outside Casey's office and knocking on the door.

"It's open." Relieved, she walks in and takes her coat off, sitting in front of Casey's desk, leaning back and closing her eyes. Casey eyes her for a moment, and bites her lip to keep from laughing.

"Bad day?" she asks.

"In the way that you nailed our guy and sent him to jail, no," Olivia replies without opening her eyes, "But in every other way, yeah."

"What happened this time?" Casey asks, dropping the pen that she's holding. It clatters onto the desk as she leans forward on her elbows to listen, successfully shuffling some of her paperwork.

"We started talking about why Munch decided to disappear on us," says Olivia. "Well, Fin did, anyway. He asked if Elliot or I had heard from him lately, and I said no, because he hasn't been answering the phone."

"Don't tell me Elliot took that the wrong way," says Casey. Olivia opens her eyes this time and leans forward in the chair.

"Well, he did ask how I knew Munch wasn't answering," she admits. "And then I asked if he was jealous and he said no, and..." She sighs before going on. "If the phone hadn't rung, he and I probably would've gotten into another fight."

"How many times does that make this month?" Casey asks. Olivia snorts.

"I don't know, and I don't want to know," she says. "I've lost count and I'd like it to stay that way."

"Where is he now? Back at the squad room?" says Casey. Olivia shakes her head.

"No." she replies. "He left with Fin."

"So, what brought you here?" Casey asks, pushing a stack of files aside. "Something else happen?"  
"The captain told me to find Munch," Olivia replies, looking away. "You know, if even _he_ doesn't know where Munch is…"  
"Scares you, doesn't it?" Casey asks. "Not hearing anything from a colleague for two weeks and then finding out even the captain doesn't know where he is?" Olivia nods.

"That's not even what bothers me, really," she says. "It's the fact that usually Munch would've said he was leaving, but this time he didn't…he was just _gone._"

"Well, you're not going to find him here, that's for sure," Casey tells her. "I haven't seen him any more than you have, and I haven't heard from him, either."

Olivia sighs. "I think it was me," she says finally, quietly enough that Casey has to lean farther forward to hear her.

"What?" she asks.

"I think it was me," Olivia says again. "I think I'm the reason Munch took off."

"Why would you think that?" Casey asks, startled. "You two probably get along better than anyone else I know."

"I know, Casey," says Olivia, "I know, but…I think I might've managed to screw it all up."

"What happened?" Casey asks, glancing towards her office door to make sure that it's closed.

"It happened two weeks ago," Olivia tells her. "The day before he left…Elliot and I had just gotten into another fight and I'd gone up to the roof to get away from him."  
"I think all of us need a break from Elliot at one point or another; I can hardly blame you," Casey says dryly. Olivia glances at her for a few seconds, offering up a half-hearted smile before going on.

"Munch came up after me," she says. "We…ah….we talked for a while. It was raining…and then it started getting worse, so we went to go inside, and…" She trails off again, and this time, doesn't continue. Casey waits for a few seconds before deciding to prompt her again.

"And what?" she asks. Olivia looks down towards her lap, where her hands are, her fingers idly fiddling with the buttons on her coat.

"And I kissed him," she replies finally. Casey stares at her in disbelief, shaking her head.

"Didn't you just tell Elliot the other day that there's nothing going on between you two?" she asks.

"There wasn't," Olivia tells her, looking up. "There was never anything until then, and now…now I don't know what to do."

"Well, you might as well go find him and make him talk to you," says Casey. "It's not going to do you any good if you're just sitting here thinking about it."  
"Yeah…" Olivia rises to her feet and puts her coat back on. "I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"Hopefully," Casey replies, "If I can ever get this darn paperwork done." She motions to the files on her desk and Olivia laughs as she opens the office door to leave.

"Good luck," she says. She pulls the office door closed behind her and remains there in the slightly darkened hallway, debating on whether or not she should just go back to the precinct and forget about all of this. She figures after a few minutes that Casey's right, and with this in mind, she leaves the District's Attorney's Office.

She's standing outside a familiar apartment building before she knows it. Cars go speeding by on the road behind her; she's thankful that for once, it isn't raining because the last thing she'd want is to have water all over her. Her eyes scan the names on the intercom system in front of her until she finds the name that she's looking for, and then, she presses the button. No answer comes at first. But when it does, she blurts the only thing she can think of.

"What's your favorite season?"


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Bored, LSM...this is for you.

* * *

"My favorite season?" For some reason, Munch's voice is distorted by the intercom, but Olivia hears it nonetheless and she closes her eyes as a wave of relief washes over her.

"Yeah," she replies, "Your favorite season. What is it?" There is silence for what seems like an eternity before an answer finally comes.

"Spring," he says, almost inaudibly. "My favorite season is spring." There's a noise and the door leading into the building opens. She eyes it for a moment, walking inside split seconds before it closes.

By the time she makes it to the floor that his apartment is on, she's already rethinking her decision to leave Casey's office to come. Then again, it wasn't as if she'd had a choice; she'd practically been ordered to come. Staring down towards the other end of the hallway, Olivia closes her eyes again, sucking in a breath as she stands there.

"Liv?" Her eyes fly open and when she's adjusted to the sudden light, she can see Munch standing a few feet away from her. "What are you doing here?"

"I…ah…Cragen sent me to look for you," she replies.

"Oh." He motions for her to follow him into the apartment and closes the door behind them when she does. "Why?"

"Because he's worried about you," says Olivia. "All of us are. You've been gone for two weeks and none of us have heard from you until now." Munch eyes her intently for a moment before walking into the kitchen; she follows, giving an exasperated sigh.

"So, what?" she asks. "You just gonna blow me off now?"

"No," he replies, "I'm not. I just…I needed a break."

"A break." Olivia sits in the chair nearest to her and runs a hand through her hair. "You couldn't have said anything?"

"Why?" Munch asks in reply. "So you could all keep asking me what's wrong?"

"No," Olivia counters, "So we wouldn't have to sit in the squad room wondering whether you're dead or alive."

"I have the feeling that neither Elliot nor Fin really cared," says Munch, and Olivia rolls her eyes.

"That's not the point," she tells him bluntly. "The _point_ is that _I_ cared."

And there it is: the real reason why she hadn't fought Cragen any further when he'd told her in no uncertain terms that she was to find her "missing" comrade.

"You what?" Munch asks, finally looking her in the eyes as if he can't believe what she's just told him.

"You heard me," she says, "I cared about it."

Decidedly uncomfortable with the situation, Munch looks away again, at a loss for words. Minutes tick by on the clock in front of them; he eyes it and sighs.

"So…you know my favorite season," he says finally. "What's yours?"

"Summer," Olivia replies. "My favorite season is summer." He eyes her for a few seconds before looking away yet again. She sighs.

"You weren't thinking of leaving, were you?" she asks quietly. "The unit, I mean."

"I was thinking about it," he admits. "Figured it wasn't worth it yet."

Startled by the answer, Olivia leans back, closing her eyes. "Was it because of me?" she asks, almost uncertainly, but he shakes his head.

"No," he says, "No. It wasn't you." He's lying and he knows it. It was because of her; he just doesn't want to tell her that because he knows it'll only make things worse than they already are.

"So what was it?" Olivia asks, deciding to press the issue, even though she knows he probably doesn't want to talk about it. "What made you take off?"

"I don't know," he tells her. "It's a lot of things…do we really have to talk about this?" He sounds almost upset as he says this, and she decides not to press any further. Instead, she leans back in her chair, running a hand through her hair.

"No," she says, "We don't." She pauses for a moment before going on. "I just don't get why you'd want to leave."

"It's nothing important," he says, relieved now that he knows she won't press him any more. "Really, it isn't. In fact, I was planning on coming back tomorrow?"

She gives him a skeptical look at this, as if she doesn't believe him, but doesn't say anything…at least, not at first. "Were you really?" she asks finally.

"Liv," he says, glancing at her momentarily before looking at the clock again. "Do you really think I'd lie to you?"

It's a good question, and she knows it. He's never lied to her before, and she doesn't see why he should start now…or even why he _would_ start now.

"No," she replies. "I don't. She reaches behind her to flip on a light, and both of them blink to adjust to the brightness.

"What'd you do that for?" Munch asks. Olivia gives him a puzzled look, motioning around the apartment with her arms.

"Don't tell me you've been sitting around here with the lights off for the past two weeks," she says. "That'd be enough to make me want to shoot myself."

"Well, I guess it's a good thing you don't sit around in the dark," says Munch, "And no, I've had the lights on. How else am I supposed to read?"

"Point taken," Olivia says, laughing softly. "Guess you can't do that without any lights." She leans back and looks out the window. It's raining again.

"I wish it'd stop raining so much," she remarks. "How many days has it been now?"

"It's been at least four," Munch tells her, "I lost count a while back." Olivia shakes her head, making a face.  
"It feels like I'm going to drown one of these days," she says, "You know, with all the water that's coming down on us." He laughs.

"And yet it rains in spring more than it does in the summer," he says. "I can see now why that's your favorite season."

"Yeah, but it's cooler in spring than it is in summer," says Olivia. "And summer's when all the tourists come to the city and crowd everything…"

"Every time of year has its flaws," Munch replies, "Even if one might think that it doesn't."

"Why do you think like that?" she asks him suddenly. "Have you ever looked at something without trying to see what's wrong with it?"

"Yes," he replies, feigning hurt. "I have." She raises an eyebrow, trying not to laugh.

"Ok," she says, and rises to her feet, pulling him up with her. "I want to test that theory."

"What do you mean, 'test'?" Munch demands as she pulls him into the living area and towards one of the windows. "I don't want to be a test subject." She makes a face at him.

"Deal with it," she tells him. "Look down there and tell me what you see." He looks and shakes his head.

"I see rain," he says. She swats at him, pretending to scowl.

"I'm serious," she tells him. "What do you see?"

This time when he looks, he notices a couple walking, neither of them holding an umbrella, but both of them holding hands. When he looks at her, he can see that she sees them too: a faint smile has crossed her face, and she's watching them as they run, trying to avoid getting wet.

"I want to be like that someday," she remarks. "Doesn't matter with who…I just want to be like that."

"Like what?" he asks, looking at her. "Happy?" She looks at him and nods.

"You don't see anything wrong with them, do you?" she asks. He shakes his head no, even though he really does, but he doesn't want to tell her that.

"No," he says, "I don't see anything wrong. In fact, those two will probably be together for quite a while." He motions back down towards them. "See? They're both smiling."

Olivia laughs and looks at her watch, sighing. "I should probably go," she says. "It's getting late." He nods, and together they walk towards the front door. Before she walks out, she turns to face him. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

He nods again. "Yeah," he replies, "You'll see me tomorrow."


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Bored, LSM...this is for you.

* * *

But it isn't the next day that she sees him. Rather, it's three days later before she hears footsteps and looks up just in time to see Munch walking into the squad room.

"Nice to see you've finally decided to grace us with your presence," Elliot tells him dryly. "Where've you been?"

"Nowhere that concerns you," Munch replies, glancing at the paperwork on his desk. "There's no way in hell this is all mine."

"You want to take off for two weeks, that's what happens," Fin says, smirking in his partner's direction. "It builds up."

"Why do I have the feeling that half of this is yours?" Munch asks in reply, and Fin shrugs.

"You want to go through it, that's on you," he says, "But I'll tell you now none of it's mine."

"We'll see," says Munch. He leans forward as if to start going through it, but the phone rings and he reaches for that, instead.

"There's a fine way to start your first morning back," says Elliot. He pushes one of the files on his desk onto Olivia's and she looks over at him.

"What?" she asks.

"Look at that one and then look at the one we have now," he says. "See any similarities?" Olivia sighs and opens the folder, holding it next to the one already open on her own desk.

"Yeah," she says, "Both victims are brunette with green eyes."

"Think it could be the same guy?"

"Might be." She closes the file and pushes it over to him again, glancing to the desks across the room. Munch and Fin are both gone, presumably to answer the call that just came in. Elliot notices her looking and rolls his eyes.

"What is it with you and them?" he asks.

"Nothing," Olivia replies, "There's nothing." _Not with Fin, anyways,_ she adds silently.

"Then why do you keep looking over there?" Elliot asks. She gives him a look.

"There something wrong with that?" she asks coolly.

"No," he tells her, "It's just weird. You've been doing it for the past two weeks."

"Maybe I have a problem with colleagues disappearing for no reason," Olivia says vaguely.

"But you know why they're gone," Elliot points out. "They went to answer a call." Olivia rolls her eyes.

"I'm not having this conversation with you," she tells him bluntly. "You want to think there's something going on, go ahead."

"Is there?" Elliot asks, more than likely just to be annoying. She scowls at him.

"I already told you there wasn't," she says. "Why can't you just believe me?"

"I never said I didn't."

"Well, you're acting like it." The phone on her desk rings before he can answer her back and she reaches for it.

"What?" A few seconds pass in silence as she writes down an address and then hangs up. "You coming with me, or not?"

"I'm your partner, aren't I?" Elliot asks in reply. He reaches behind him for his coat and rises to his feet. "Let's go."

Olivia glares at him, but doesn't reply; reaching for her own coat, she rises to her feet and follows him out of the squad room.

"Where are we going?" he asks. She shoves the address at him, pushing the precinct doors open before he can do it for her and stepping outside into the cold, ignoring him as he walks behind her.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks, and she turns to face him, startled as she yanks the driver's side door open to get it.

"Doing what?" She knows what he's getting at. She just doesn't want to give him an answer, and now it looks as if she doesn't have much of a choice.

"Oh, I don't know, Liv," Elliot says sarcastically. "We were just fine a few days ago, and now you're acting like you want nothing to do with me. What is that?"

"Nothing that concerns you," says Olivia. "Let it go, Elliot. If you needed to know, I'd tell you."

She realizes the irony in her words as soon as the last one leaves her mouth. If anything, this new development between her and Munch is something that her partner needs to know, but she can't for the life of her figure out how to tell him. And she isn't sure she wants him to know.

"Would you?" Elliot asks, as they leave the precinct to head for the south side of the borough. She glances at him briefly, sighing.

"Yes," she says, "I would. You know I would." When Elliot doesn't reply, she turns to face him, for once, grateful for a red light.

"I haven't lied to you yet," she tells him, "And I'm probably never going to start, either, so will you just calm down?"

"Fine," says Elliot, "I'll calm down if you promise not to keep acting like you hate me."

"When did I ever say I hated you?" Olivia asks, startled, but the light has turned green and she turns back towards the road as Elliot shrugs.

"You didn't," he says, "But you act like it, and that bothers me."

"Yeah, well, a lot of the stuff you do bothers me too," she mutters dryly, and he casts her a pained look.

"Liv," he says, "That isn't what I meant."

"I'm aware of that. And if it bugs you, I'm sorry. I think work is finally starting to get to me." Elliot snorts.

"Likely excuse," he says, and she rolls her eyes.

"What else did you think I'd say?" she asks, trying not to laugh as they arrive at their crime scene. "Work's the only ting it could be at this time of day."

"It's not even eleven yet," Elliot points out as they get out of the car. She smirks, saying nothing as they cross the crime scene tape, flashing their shields at the uniforms that come to make them go away. Melinda looks up as she hears their footsteps and sighs.

"This isn't good," she tells them.

"When is it ever?" Olivia asks in reply, and Melinda pulls back the sheet covering the body. Both detectives exchange glances before shaking their heads.

"Anything you can tell us?" Elliot asks, once the initial shock of what they're seeing wears off.

"Overkill," says Melinda. "From what I can tell the initial cause of death is strangulation, but I won't be able to tell you any more for a few hours."

"Was there an ID or was she just lying there?" asks Olivia. Melinda rises to her feet and hands her a battered leather wallet before motioning to her nearby assistants. Within moments, both they and the body are gone. Olivia opens the wallet and finds herself staring at a school ID and a smiling face.

"Her name was Cassie Matthews," she says to Elliot. "Eighteen years old today." He shakes his head in disgust, ignoring CSU as he crosses the tape again, swearing under his breath. Olivia closes the wallet again before following him.

"You ok?" she asks. He looks at her over the roof of the car, sighing.

"Yeah," he says, "I'm fine. It's just…." He pauses for a moment, looking away before continuing. "She's the same age as Kathleen."

"You going to be all right with this, then?" Olivia asks. "If not, I'll just get one of the other two to…" Elliot cuts her off.

"I'll be fine," he tells her, "I just...I haven't seen my kids in a while." Olivia fishes the keys out of her pocket as both of them get into the car and then turns to face him.

"Tell you what," she says, "I'll take you to the precinct and when we get there you can take your car and go see them."

"They're all in school," Elliot points out, and she shrugs as they leave.

"So take them out of school," she replies. "You're their father. No one's going to stop you, and besides that, they're probably wanting to see you, too."

Slightly cheered by this remark, Elliot gives a faint smile, leaning back in the seat. "You're probably right," he says. "I think I will go see them."

"Good," Olivia says teasingly, "Maybe you'll stop coming to the squad room in such a bad mood every day."

"I haven't been that bad lately," Elliot protests, and she gives a derisive snort.

"My ass," she says. "You can ask anyone in the squad and they'll probably tell you the exact same thing I'm saying now."

"Yeah, but I'm not asking the rest of the squad, I'm asking you."

"And I'm telling you that more often than not, you look like you're ready to kill someone when you come in."

"I look like I'm ready to kill someone. There's a fine thing to tell a cop, Liv." says Elliot.

"You're talking to a cop," Olivia replies dryly, "And besides that, I know you're not actually going to go out and do it, so it doesn't really matter, does it?"

"No," Elliot remarks, "I guess it doesn't. But do I really look like that when I come in?"

"You didn't this morning, but you sure as hell did yesterday," Olivia tells him, trying not to laugh. "I still don't see why you can't come in just once with a smile on your face."

"You know what?" he asks. "I'm going to do that. Tomorrow. Just to watch your reaction."

"I'll bet you would," says Olivia, "And what are you going to do if I don't happen to be looking up when you walk in?"

"Then I'll keep walking in and out until you do look and ask me what the hell I'm doing," Elliot replies smugly. She swats at him as they reach the precinct and both of them laugh.

Once they've stopped and she's turned the car off, Elliot reaches into his pocket for his own keys and glances over at her. "You sure you're all right with me taking off like this?"

"Hey, I'm the one who suggested it," she tells him, "If I had a problem I'd have told you before we got here."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Go see your kids and leave me in peace, will you?" He laughs, and walks away; she gets out of the car and watches him go, wondering why she feels relieved when he's finally out of sight.

When she finally goes into the precinct and down to the squad room, Munch and Fin are already there, arguing over something that more than likely has nothing to do with the case they've just been landed with. She glances over at them for a moment, looking away only when she catches Munch's eye.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: So, yeah. Once more, Bored, LSM, this is for you...and seeing as you turned me into a J/O shipper, it's gonna be hell trying to finish Made to Be Broken now...:rolleyes:

* * *

She hadn't expected Casey to ask her out to lunch, but it had happened. And now she finds herself sitting at a table in a café near the precinct, right across from the ADA.

"Cragen tells me the squad seems to be out of whack lately," Casey remarks, sipping from the Coke in front of her.

"Did he?" Olivia asks in reply. Casey nods.

"He seems pretty sure things will work themselves out," she says. "Hopefully sooner than later."

"Yeah," says Olivia, "That would be good. She fiddles with the napkin she has in front of her before continuing. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," says Casey, suddenly looking concerned, "What's up?"

Olivia sighs. "What would you do if you were with someone, but you started falling in love with someone else?"

"Oh. Wow." Casey leans back in her chair and takes another sip of her soda. "That's a hard one."

"Yeah, I know." Olivia runs a hand through her hair, sighing again. "That's why I'm asking."

"Well…." Casey sighs and sips again as she thinks. "Have you thought about it?"

"I've thought about it for nearly three months, Casey," says Olivia. She picks up a French fry, dips it in ketchup and sticks it into her mouth, waiting.

"So you really think it might be over between you and Elliot?" Casey asks finally.

"I don't know," Olivia admits. "Sometimes I think it is and I want to tell him, but then the next thing I know, he's gone and done something sweet or thoughtful, and I'm in love with him again."

"Well, you know, that…that's the problem," Casey tells her. "You'd have to decide which guy you love more."

"Even if it means screwing everything over?" Startled by the question, Casey stares for a moment at the older woman before it dawns on her.

"Should've known," she comments, fighting the desire to smirk. "This other guy you're talking about….it's Munch, isn't it?"

Olivia nods without speaking and looks away; Casey laughs.

"What are you ashamed for?" she asks. "There's nothing wrong with that."

" I didn't say there was. It's just…it's awkward." Olivia says finally. Casey sighs.

"Yeah, it would be," she says. "I don't know what to tell you, though. All I can really say is that it's best you make up your mind now before all three of you get hurt." She looks at her watch and frowns. "And I hate to cut things short, but I should really get going."  
"Same here." says Olivia. Casey pulls her wallet out and leaves money on the table, and they rise to their feet to leave.

Once they're outside, Olivia looks in the direction of the precinct and runs a second hand through her hair.

"I think things just suddenly got harder," she says quietly. Casey shakes her head.

"It's your decision," she tells her. "It might hurt someone for a little while, but whoever it is, they'll get over it."

"That's the problem, Casey," says Olivia, "What if they don't?" Casey shrugs.

"You'll just have to see," she replies. "It's more than likely that they will, so I wouldn't worry about it too much if I were you." She looks at her watch again and continues. "I'm due back in court. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," says Olivia. Casey casts a faint smile in her direction before hailing a cab and disappearing; she watches her go before heading back towards the precinct, just in time to see Munch walking out.

" I was just about to come looking for you," he says, pretending to be annoyed. "Let's go, we've got a case."

"What happened to our partners?" she asks. He rolls his eyes and motions back inside, handing her the keys as he does.

"They didn't answer the phone, so they don't get to come," he tells her. "Besides, they've got paperwork to finish."  
"Paperwork, huh?" Olivia asks, pulling the driver's side door to one of the cars open and shaking her head. "You do realize that when we get back they'll probably be screwing around."

"Well, if they want all the sex crimes in this city to go on unsolved, they can do that," Munch replies, sliding in beside her. "You know where we're going?"

"No." comes the reply. He laughs and hands her the slip of paper he's holding; she eyes it and sighs. "I was just over there a few days ago."

"That same address?" he asks, startled. She shakes her head.

"No," she says, "Same neighborhood. Elliot and I caught a case over there…open and shut, really. The guy's trial starts tomorrow."

"Oh." Munch falls silent for a few seconds before going on as he looks at her. "Is Casey going to need you for court?"

"Probably not," Olivia replies absently, "I think she was leaning towards using Elliot this time around."

"He's gonna love that," Munch remarks dryly, "Having to sit in court all day….it'll drive him up the wall."

"Well, don't sound so happy about it," says Olivia, turning abruptly as the light turns green. "He gets pissed off in court, we're all gonna hear it when he gets back."  
"One of the lovelier aspects of your partner," Munch says sarcastically. "Don't you hate how he can get pissed off about one thing and then take it out on us the next day?"

"No," says Olivia, "Not really. He's lucky I don't beat it out of him one of these days."

"That's probably not advisable, with him looking like he's ready to kill someone every morning," says Munch. She laughs.

"I told him that a few days ago," she replies. "He didn't want to hear it. I don't think he wants to admit that he's got anger issues."

"I don't think anyone would be willing to admit they have anger issues." Munch falls silent again for a few seconds before deciding to change the subject. "What would you be if you weren't a cop?"

Startled, Olivia looks at him as she comes to yet another red light. "If I _weren't_ a cop?" she asks in reply, and he nods.

"Yeah," he says, "What would you be doing?" She shrugs.

"I don't know," she replies. "I might've ended up an ADA."

"Not a defense attorney?"

"Hell no. I wouldn't be able to live with myself knowing what I know and yet helping keep those bastards on the streets."

"But what if you didn't know what we know now? Then would you?"

"No. I still wouldn't be able to live with myself."

"Why?"

"Attorney-client privilege states that if your client tells you something, you can't say anything, no matter what it is, right?"

"Yes."

"Then what if your client decided, in the middle of trial, to tell you after court's adjourned that he really is guilty? Then what?"

"I think there's a certain clause for that, Liv." The car stops again, but this time, they have reached their destination. Olivia turns to look at Munch as they get out of the car, shaking her head.

"Well, if they have, I've never heard it," she says. "Most lawyers I know wouldn't tell for fear of ruining their reputations."

"Why are jobs like that based on reputation?" Munch asks, changing the subject again. "It almost defeats the purpose of telling a kid that they can be whatever they want to be, but a kid that was a screw up all through grade school is probably going to be known as a screw up no matter what he or she does."

"That's not true," Olivia says as they walk into the apartment building before them. "Everyone has the potential to change, Munch."

"And yet people still insist that once you've learned to be a certain way, you can't change. Take you and me for instance. Everyone wants to talk to you because you look like someone they'd _want _to talk to, and I don't, so no one does."

"That has nothing to do with reputation." They cross the tape and flash their shields towards a different set of uniforms than the ones that had been at the door; Munch glances at her and shakes his head.

"It has everything to do with it," he says. "Reputation is supposed to precede you, right? So, according to that theory, before they even meet us, I'm the cold-hearted jerk, and you're the compassionate one."

"You're not a jerk," says Olivia, "Well, what I mean to say is that you _can_ be, but you choose _not_ to be."

"Thanks, Liv," Munch replies, pretending to be hurt. "I'll keep that in mind." They walk into the back room to find Melinda bent over yet another body and shaking her head.

"I can't even make out her face," she says upon noticing the two detectives. Munch and Olivia exchange glances before peering over her shoulders at the body.

"This is definitely someone with anger issues," says Munch. Olivia casts him a look of mock annoyance and sighs.

"Cause of death?" she asks.

"Someone cut her throat," says Melinda. "That's where most of this blood came from, but there are other wounds. I'd say it took her a while to die."

"Whatever happened to people who just killed their victims without leaving them to suffer?" Munch asks sarcastically. "What time do you think she died?" Melinda shrugs.

"Probably around seven o'clock this morning." she replies. "Her sister found her…the uniforms took into the front room if you didn't already see her."

"We saw her." Olivia closes her eyes and sighs. "You want to take it, or should I?" she says to Munch. He smirks.

"I'm the cold one, remember?" he says. She opens her eyes and makes a face at him.

"Fine, if you're going to be that way about it," she says, trying and failing to sound annoyed. She leaves the room to go talk to their latest victim's sister; he glances towards the CSU tech standing nearby.

"Anything that might help us find this guy before he kills someone else?" he asks. The technician shakes her head.

"Nothing yet," she says. "We've found prints, but your victim just moved in, so they could be from anyone."

"Well, when you rum them through the system, let us know if you get a hit," says Munch. "Anything else?" Again, the technician shakes her head.

"We'll let you know," she says. He nods absently and follows Melinda and her assistants out of the room, stopping in the front room where Olivia is, directing the same two uniforms who tried to keep them from coming in to take their victim's so-far only living relative home.

"You're not going to talk to her?" he asks. Olivia shakes her head and rises to her feet so they can leave.

"She's too traumatized," she says. "Wouldn't you be if you'd just walked in on someone you loved like that?"

Suddenly strongly reminded of an occurrence from his childhood, Munch shakes his head, even though he knows he's lying. "No," he says, "I haven't. You want to head back to the precinct?"

Olivia nods. "She'll be better in the morning, I think," she replies as they walk into the building's main hallway. "We'll talk to her then."


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: My longest chapter yet! Six pages and I have the feeling that they're only going to start getting longer until I learn to cut myself off. Good thing there are only a few more chapters left after this one. LSM...sorry I couldn't get this one up so you could have a chance to read it today, but it's up now so you can read it when you do get the chance, and this is for you, and bored, because you both have turned me into JO shippers...and now that I'm done ranting, I shall go.

* * *

He's dreaded being alone with her ever since he came back. And now it's happened. As luck would have it, this is one of those cases that requires them to play certain parts. So now they're sitting at a table with people they hardly know and trying to make conversation so they don't look suspicious. Neither of them are comfortable with any of it; he can tell by looking at her that she'd rather be anywhere but here, sitting in a dress that restricts her breathing.

He waits until the conversation starts to dwindle before glancing at her, smirking faintly at the subtle look of annoyance on her face.

"Can you breathe?" he asks in an undertone, and she glares at him.

"Yes," she replies, "Can you?" He nods, fighting the sudden desire to laugh as he reaches for her hand.

"Come dance with me," he says. She raises an eyebrow.

"Dance with you?" she asks. "I don't know, Munch. I'm not too sure about that." He rolls his eyes and rises to his feet, drawing her up with him.

"I'm not that bad at it," he tells her. "Come on."

Olivia gives a sigh of mock exasperation, but allows him to lead her out onto the dance floor. "You'd better not step on my feet," she warns, "They already hurt as it is."

Munch casts her a look of mock hurt. "I'm not going to step on your feet," he tells her, "Relax." She laughs.

"Relax, he says," she replies. "I'm supposed to relax in this dress and these shoes?" He shrugs.

"Close you're eyes and pretend you're not," he says. "What would you be doing if you weren't here?"

"Sleeping," Olivia replies. "Seems like I haven't in weeks."

"You haven't," Munch points out dryly, "None of us have."

"My point exactly," she tells him. "We _could _be at home right now, but instead, we're both here."

"What, you think I like this?" he asks. She shakes her head.

"I'd have to shoot you if you did," she replies.

"Thanks, Liv," Munch says mildly, "I'll keep that in mind." She lets go of his hand and swats at him.

"I'm kidding," she says. "I wouldn't really shoot you."

"Well, there's a comforting thought," he tells her. Silence falls between them and he reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair out of her face.

"I've never seen that dress," he remarks, "Where'd you get it?"

"Casey dragged me out shopping," Olivia admits, blushing as she looks away. "I'm not really good at this sort of thing on my own."

"I find that hard to believe." The song changes, but they remain where they are, neither of them having any desire to go back to where they were.

"You do? Why?" she asks.

"I don't know," he replies, "I just do."

"Why are we still out here?" she asks. He glances down at her, laughing softly.

"Did you want to go back over there?" he asks, motioning with his head to the table. She rolls her eyes.

"Hell no," she replies. "I was getting kind of tired of talking politics."

"You don't find any of that interesting?"

"No, and I find it hard to believe that anyone does. Why should we care about politics when all the government does is screw everyone over anyways?"

"Because we're the ones who put them where they are, that's why," says Munch. "If we're going to put them in those positions, we should be able to voice an opinion on the job they're doing."

"If they're doing said job at all," says Olivia.

"You know, I ought to tape one of our conversations sometime and see if Elliot and Fin can tell who's talking."

"What's the point? All they're going to do is say that I've been spending too much time talking to you."

"One can never spend too much time talking to friends," Munch tells her, "If you _don't_ talk to them, then you have a problem."

"And why's that?" Olivia asks in reply.

"Why do you think? You stop talking you friends for a while, you lose contact, and then the next thing you know, twenty or so years have gone by and when you _want_ to talk to them, you can't, because they're already dead." says Munch.

"There's a fine way to look at it," Olivia says dryly. "What if they're not dead and they've been wanting to talk to you all that time?"

"Then you ask them why they didn't think to drop by and initiate the conversation."

"And what if that just makes whatever started the silence that much worse?"

"Then you deal with it and find someone else to talk to. It's not like it'd be hard in a city this size."

"You have got to be kidding me. Why would you want to do that if you already _had_ someone to talk to?"

"People grow apart, Liv. It's one of the main reasons relationships start to deteriorate in the first place. Once you have nothing in common, it's practically impossible to talk, because there's no common ground."

"Which is probably why some people just stay single their entire lives, because they don't want that to ruin anything."

"I think people who are single are that way because they either haven't had the chance to go out there and find someone they could love, because they _have_ found someone and just can't tell them because they're afraid of being rejected or because they've left the person they supposedly loved because of minor problems that they could have worked through."

"That's the point, though," Olivia says as they turn. "You're going to get hurt if you love someone, that's a given. It's not always going to be sunshine and roses."

"Exactly," says Munch. "It's not. And that's why some people's relationships don't last, because they expect it to be that way. They expect some sort of fairy-tale romance and when they don't get it, they're disappointed."

"So they leave, and then they find themselves alone again…but what happens if they come to their senses and realize that they really want what they had?"

"Then they can go back, and hope that the one they left hasn't moved on, found someone else…that they still want what they had, too."

"And if they don't?"

"Then they go their separate ways, until they find someone who can give them what they need and what they want, and if they never find that someone, then they stay single the rest of their lives."

"What about your other theory?" Olivia asks then, as the song changes a second time. "What if they have found someone and they're just afraid to tell them?"

"You know that saying that fear is supposedly a great motivator?" Munch asks, and Olivia nods. He pauses for a minute before going on. "That's not always true. Sometimes it's more of an obstacle than anything."

"I can see why it would be," says Olivia, "Not being able to tell someone how you feel about them…"

"The fear of rejection can be worse than any other fear one might have," says Munch. "I'll bet you right now that you couldn't name one person who actually _wanted_ to be rejected." Olivia laughs.

"You're right," she tells him, "I couldn't. I don't think there's one person in this world that would want to be pushed away after telling someone that they love them."

"Which is why a good number of people in this world are still on their own. Their fear is keeping them from finding what they want."

"Yeah," Olivia says absently, "I think you're right." For some reason, her mind flashes back to the conversation she'd had with Casey barely two weeks before, and she closes her eyes, trying to sort out her thoughts.

"You ok?" Munch asks, glancing down at her again. She opens her eyes to look up at him, smiling faintly.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she says. "How long have we been here?"

"Out here dancing or overall?"

"Overall."

"At least three hours. I'm starting to think that this is just a waste of our time."

"You're not going to be saying that if we nail our guy this time around, and besides, it was your turn to deal with me anyway."

"Yes, only because Elliot and Fin already did this with you. Have you ever thought that being the only woman in the squad might actually be an advantage?"

"As a matter of fact, I have. And I do every time I get a victim to open up to me after they refuse to talk to you guys."

"That bothers me sometimes, how they won't talk to us when we're trying to help them. Why is that?"

"Because they've just been violated by a man, that's why. The last person they're going to want to put up with is a male detective that's probably been on his feet for more than 24 hours and is likely to lose his temper if she hesitates."

"Then she shouldn't talk to Elliot."

"You and Fin are just as bad when you're exhausted and you know it. I doubt I'd want to put up with you if something like that ever happened to me."

"If something like that ever happened to you and we caught the guy, he probably wouldn't make it to the precinct."

"Which brings me to another point: why are you three so protective of me, anyway?"

"Because you're a lady."

"And your point is? I have a shield and I have a gun. It's obvious I'm a cop; do you guys really think someone's going to mess with me?"

"You never know what someone's thinking at any given point and time, Liv. For all you know, one of these guys could be considering doing something to you as soon as I'm not looking."

"Then he wouldn't have much luck, you've been here with me all night, and I'm not going anywhere until we get our guy."

"You are one hell of a detective, you know that?" Munch asks, and Olivia smirks.

"How do you think I got to where I am?" she asks. "If I couldn't handle it, I wouldn't be here."

"And I would be bored out of my mind, because I'd have no one to talk to." Munch glances at his watch and sighs. "Any idea where the other two took off to?"

"I haven't seen them since we got here, and I'm starting to think they might've just left us here to rot."

"Oh, that's great. How are we supposed to do this if those two aren't even here to help keep an eye on things?"

"I didn't say they _did_ take off, I said I _think_ they might have. It's the only thing I can think of, seeing as neither of us have heard any of their comments, yet."

"We're probably going to hear it tomorrow, you know that, right?" Munch asks. "If those two are here, they're probably getting a kick out of watching this, and all of it's going to lead to them giving us hell in the squad room."

"They wouldn't," says Olivia. "I think those two know better than to give me hell about anything, but you, on the other hand…"

"I wouldn't doubt they'd give me hell about this," says Munch, "But if I don't have a problem being here with you, then it's not exactly going to bother me, now, is it?"  
"You're the very one I'd have thought would have a problem with being stuck in a situation like this," says Olivia.

"I would have a problem if I were here with anyone else," Munch tells her, "And that's only because I wouldn't be able to talk with someone else the way I talk with you."

"That's great," says Olivia. "The only reason you don't have a problem with being here with me is because you can talk to me?"  
"Among other reasons," Munch says vaguely. She pokes at him.

"What reasons?" she asks.

"Reasons that I don't care to disclose right now, so you'll have to wait until later." The song changes again, but still, they remain where they are.

"How many times has the song changed?" Olivia asks.

"Three, I think," says Munch. "You feel like sitting down yet?" She shakes her head, unconsciously moving closer to him.

"No," she says, "Why? Are you getting tired?"

"I'm not that old," he protests, pretending to be affronted. "I'm fine. It's just those shoes of yours that I'm worried about."

"My feet stopped hurting a long time ago," says Olivia, "I think I'm finally used to these shoes again."  
"When's the last time you wore them?" Munch asks. She shrugs.

"Couple of years ago, I think," she says. "I forgot I even had them; I was going through my closet to see if I had any shoes to match this damned dress so Casey wouldn't have another excuse to drag me out again and I found these."

"You're probably the first woman I've ever met that _didn't_ want an excuse to go shopping," Munch remarks, and Olivia eyes him intently.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" she asks. He laughs.

"That is definitely a good thing," he says. "If there's one thing I can't stand, it's someone who has to go out and get a new outfit for every event without even looking in their closet to see if they already have something that might fit the occasion."

"Well, then, I guess you can stand me, because I've got more clothes than I know what to do with, and I certainly don't need any more." says Olivia, smiling faintly. She glances at the watch on Munch's wrist and sighs.

"This is taking too damn long," she remarks. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"  
"If you're thinking that our guy isn't here and that the other two have left us here to rot, then yes," comes the reply, and silence falls between them, as the song changes, yet again.

"Is it just me or does it feel like it's only the two of us and no one else?" Olivia asks finally, quietly enough that he has to bend down to hear her.

"It's not just you," he replies, pushing her hair out of her eyes again. She closes her eyes and leans against him, hiding her face in his shirt and breathing in. He keeps his arms around her as they turn again in time to the music and she laughs, her voice muffled by the fabric.

"What?" he asks.

"Nothing," she replies. "It's nothing." But it is something, and she knows it. She feels like a schoolgirl again, with everything from the butterflies in her stomach to the blush slowly making its way across her face, and it is for this reason that she's glad he can't see her expression. She keeps her face hidden, and he watches her, an almost amused look crossing his face when she doesn't look up.

"Comfortable?" he asks dryly, and she mumbles something incoherent, something that he takes as a 'yes', so he draws her closer.

"I think I like this," she says, her voice still muffled. He looks down at her, startled.

"Like what?" he asks slowly.

"This," Olivia replies. "Being able to just let go and talk without having to worry about being judged for what I'm saying…talking about stuff that actually matters instead of talking about work all the time…."

She trails off then, and he continues to stare down at her. A few minutes pass before he finally finds the words he needs to voice what he's thinking.

"So….so what you're saying," he starts, faltering slightly for a moment, "What you're saying is that you…you like being with me?"

Olivia looks up this time, rather surprised at seeing the startled expression that Munch is wearing.

"What?" she asks. "Did I say something wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?"

He doesn't answer. For some reason, he finds himself both speechless and caught off guard, and it's all because of what she's just said. He finds it hard to believe that she actually enjoys being anywhere near him, and has half a mind to tell her, but instead, he remains silent, and she pokes at him again.

"Hey," she says, "You're starting to scare me now; what did I do?" He shakes his head.

"You didn't…." He sighs and continues. "You didn't do anything. It's just….I don't…"

She cuts him off before he can go any further, reaching up to kiss him again, much like she had that night on the precinct rooftop a few weeks ago. Her eyes are closed; her back is to the crowd, and she doesn't notice that the other two have decided to make a reappearance, but he does.

And he can tell from the look on Elliot's face that this isn't anywhere close to being over.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Hey, LSM...I have the power to make you read:rolleyes:. Just kidding. But two chapters in one day is pretty good, no? Anyways...yeah. This one is for you, and bored, as usual, because you two are the only other JO shippers I know about.

* * *

By the time the clock strikes two in the morning, they've got the man they're looking for, but the fairy tale is already far from over. They leave the reception hall with their suspect in tow, handcuffed and scowling. Olivia pushes him into the back seat of one of the cars, not bothering to tell him to watch his head and slams the door closed before turning to look at the others. Elliot still won't look her in the eye. He hasn't for the past hour.

"You come with me," she says to him, grabbing the keys from his hands and moving to open the door to the car the suspect isn't in. She glances over at Munch and Fin, but both of them look away without saying anything. Elliot glances over at them, scowling as he gets into the car with Olivia. Within seconds, the two of them are gone, and only then does he talk.

"You want to tell me what the hell that was back there?" he demands.

"Something that doesn't concern you," Olivia tells him bluntly. He glares at her.

"How do you figure?" he asks. "For God's sake, Liv, you were _kissing_ him."

She's half tempted at this point to tell him that it was nothing, that it was a role she was playing because she was undercover. But she'd be lying through her teeth if she did, and she knows it.

"Are you ever going to get over yourself?" she asks in reply, not bothering to hide that she's annoyed. "I don't have to tell you everything that goes on with me."

"You could have at least had the _decency_ to let me know you wanted out instead of letting me find out this way!" Elliot retorts. "Hell, Olivia, I must have asked you at _least_ four months ago, and you told me there wasn't anything going on!"  
"There_ wasn't_ anything," Olivia says, her voice starting to rise. "And maybe there _wouldn't_ have been if you'd just…" She trails off then, too upset to say anything else. If there was one thing she hadn't wanted, it was for things to end up like this.

_Casey was right,_ she thinks then, almost bitterly, _I should've made up my mind a long time ago._

Her silence seems to irritate her partner even more, and he glares at her.

"You're the last person I'd have expected to do something like this," he tells her. "Did you forget that people were watching you?"

"No," Olivia snaps, turning to face him as the light before him turns red. "I forgot _you_ were there." Her words hit him almost as if she's physically reached out and smacked him.

"So if I hadn't…If I hadn't been there, things might have gone farther?" he asks finally.

"Yeah, they might have, not that it's any of _your_ business," Olivia retorts. She turns back to the road as the light turns green, and he waits for her to continue, but she doesn't, and silence falls between them. When she turns abruptly a few blocks away from the precinct, he turns to look at her.

"Where the hell are we going?" he asks, and she turns, her eyes flashing angrily at him.

"You think I'm taking you back to the precinct after what just happened?" she asked.

"Yeah, I did," he shoots back, "That's where we're _supposed_ to be going, isn't it?" She gives him a look.

"If you think I'm going to let you go into the squad room so you can make things worse…" she starts, but her cuts her off.

"So _I_ can make things worse?" he asks. "Things aren't going to get any worse than they already are, Liv, so you might as well face it while you can."

"Why are you doing this?" she demands as the light turns red again. "Why do you have to be such a jerk?"

"So now I'm a jerk." Elliot says sarcastically, but when he opens his mouth to continue, she cuts him off.

"Yeah," she tells him, "You are. And you have been for the past eleven months, and damn it, Elliot, I'm sick of it."

"Then why the hell didn't you say anything before now?" he asks. She turns into a nearby empty lot as the light turns green, turns the car off and shifts in her seat so that she can see him completely.

"Because I cared about you," she says, "And I still do. Your life was already falling apart at the seams, and I didn't want to make it worse."

"And you thought that going around with Munch behind my back was going to make things better?" Elliot demands. "Tell me something, Olivia, exactly how long have you two been sleeping together?"

A loud smack echoes through the car's interior before she even realizes what she's doing, and once it dawns on her what she's done, she stares at her hand in disbelief for a long moment before looking over at her partner. Elliot looks as startled as she does, if not more, but she doesn't care, because now, she's more pissed off than anything else.

"What the_ hell_ makes you think you have _right_ to ask me that question?" she demands, her voice shaking with barely controlled anger. "You know what, Elliot, forget that. I can't _believe_ you'd even feel like you _had_ to ask me that!"

Her anger is only a façade to cover her hurt by the time the last word escapes her; he knows this, but he's angry enough to not care anymore.

"Why, Liv?" he asks in reply. "Why _can't _you believe that I feel like I have to ask you that? How long are you going to keep leading him on, making him think you actually want a relationship with him, huh?"

"Why do you care?" Olivia yells, not caring that they're in an enclosed area. "Why do you even give a damn? You've spent the last eleven months making _my_ life a living hell, what did you think I was going to do?"

"You could have talked to me!" Elliot yells back. "You could have made me listen and you know it, so why didn't you?"

"Because I know you too well," Olivia snaps, looking away when she feels tears stinging at her eyes. "You wouldn't have listened. You're too wrapped up in your own issues to even give me the time of day."

"That's not true," Elliot counters, "I would have listened if you'd given me the chance."

"I tried to!" Her voice breaks before the last word escapes her and she closes her eyes to keep her tears from falling, but it doesn't do any good. "I can't tell you how many times I tried to let you know that I was miserable, and _every_ time I did, you pushed me away, because _you_ didn't have time to deal with me."

"I didn't have time to deal with you?" Elliot asks acidly. "I see you every day, Liv, how the hell am I not going to have time to deal with you?"

She finds herself fighting the desire to smack him again, and clasps her hands together, hard enough to cause her knuckles to go white as she looks down at her lap.

"You don't get it, do you?" she asks softly, having lost the will to fight with him any longer. He stares at her for a moment before replying.

"No," he tells her, "I don't get it, so why don't you just explain it instead of giving me the runaround like you've been doing?"  
She sniffles then, wiping at her eyes as she turns to look at him, and he leans back against the car door, startled upon seeing the tearstains on her face. He's never seen her like this before, and he doesn't like it…he wants things to go back to the way they were before, but he knows they won't. Whatever relationship they had is too far gone for them to go back now.

"He listened to me," she says, almost inaudibly. "And it…it felt good to know that I could just let out whatever I was thinking and not just be ignored."

"Oh." At a loss for words, Elliot remains where he is, not daring to lean forward to wipe away her tears or to comfort her in any other way. "Liv, I…."

"I know," she tells him, "I know." And she really does know, even though he hasn't said anything, because even if they've been off kilter on a personal level, as partners, they can still read each other perfectly. He looks at her for a long moment before shaking his head.

"You think I overreacted, don't you?" he asks, suddenly desperate to make this rather depressed mood they're in go away. She looks at him, and bites her lip to keep from laughing.

"Yeah," she says, "I do. Asking me if I've slept with Munch is kind of crossing the line."

"I shouldn't have said that," Elliot says ruefully, glad that his anger has all but disappeared now that they've actually managed to talk, "But has anyone ever told you that you hit like a guy?"

"You're going to have a bruise in the morning," Olivia tells him. "What are you going to tell the squad?"  
Elliot shrugs. "I'll tell 'em I got into a bar fight or something," he says nonchalantly, but he can't manage to keep a straight face, and she swats at him, laughing.

"Knowing you, they'll probably believe it," she says, now feeling more relieved than anything else. "Any other confessions you want to make while you're at it?"

"Actually, yes," Elliot says, suddenly serious again, and Olivia turns to face him, an almost concerned look crossing her face.

"Ok, spill," she says, "What is it?" He shifts uncomfortably in the seat and turns to look at the window; she pokes at him.

"Don't clam up on me now," she warns, "Otherwise, I really will have to beat it out of you this time."

"I think you already have," says Elliot. He falls silent for a few more minutes before sighing and turning to face her again.

"Kathy and I have been talking," he admits. "She…ah….she asked me a few days ago whether or not I was still up for trying to reconcile."

"What'd you tell her?" Olivia demands, startled by this rather blunt pronouncement.

"I haven't answered her yet," Elliot replies. "I wanted….I wanted to let you know about it first before I made any life-altering decisions…" Olivia cuts him off with a derisive snort.

"Life-altering, my ass," she tells him. "You knew things were going south between us, you should've just told her yes. How hard would that have been?"

"Forgive me for saying this, Liv, but you and I were still considered to be 'going out' when she asked, so I didn't think telling her yes without telling you about it was going to fly." he answers.

"Does she know?" Olivia asks then, fiddling with the bracelet she'd put on at the beginning of the night. "About us, I mean."

"Yeah," says Elliot, "She does. She asked and I wasn't about to lie to her and tell her you and I had never been together."

"How'd she take it?" asks Olivia.

"I don't know yet," says Elliot, "We haven't talked since she asked if I still wanted to reconcile." Olivia swats at him, but misses.

"God, Liv," he says, pretending to pull away from her, "You think you've beat on me enough tonight?"

"Hey, I missed that time," she replies, "But that's beside the point. You need to go talk to her, preferably as soon as possible."

"If I go now, she'll just change her mind," says Elliot, motioning to the clock on the dashboard. "It's three-thirty in the morning." Olivia gives him a look of mock exasperation.

"That's not what I meant, you idiot," she says, "I meant later, at a decent hour when you two have actually had a few cups of coffee and can hold a coherent conversation."

"I think Munch is starting to rub off on you," Elliot says dryly, "And I'm not sure that's a good thing, either."  
"Deal with it," says Olivia. She turns the car back on and they leave the lot, presumably towards the precinct, but when she turns again, he gives her a look of mock annoyance.

"Where are we going now?" he demands. "I'm tired of being your prisoner; I want to go home."

"You can go home later," she replies, "I need to eat something and I don't want to do it alone."

"So you're going to drag me with you to some twenty-four hour diner just because you didn't eat something earlier?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm going to do, and you're going to deal with it, because you don't have a choice."

When they reach their new destination, they get out of the car and exchange glances over the car roof before heading inside, and once they're in the warmth. Elliot turns to look at her, smiling faintly.

"Liv?"

"What?"

"I missed talking to you like this…as partners. You know?"

"Yeah, I know. I probably missed it more than you."


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: YAY! Last chapter is finally done, and I have officially completed my first chapter fic:rolleyes:. LSM, bored, this one is for you, as usual...thanks for poking me to get it done.

* * *

Even despite the conversation she had with Elliot, she doesn't see Munch until they all return to the squad room on Monday. And even then, when he sees her, he leaves, muttering something about leaving a file somewhere. But she knows better, and so do the other two, but none of them go after him. When he doesn't come back, however, Elliot pushes at Olivia's feet beneath their desks.

"What?" she asks. He gives her a look, motioning to the empty desk across the room.

"You're not going to go after him?" he asks in reply. She stares at him.

"You're the last one I'd have thought would ask me that," she says. He rolls his eyes.

"Thought we already worked this out," says Elliot. Olivia sighs.

"We did," she says, glancing over at Fin to see if he's listening. It doesn't appear as if he is; he's looking at his paperwork, but both she and Elliot know better.

"Then why aren't you gone?" Elliot asks in reply. He has the feeling that he already knows the answer, but he waits nonetheless.

"Obvious, isn't it?" Olivia asks finally in reply. "He left when I walked in. The last thing he's going to want is to talk to me."

"I doubt that," Elliot tells her. "I might not know what I'm talking about half the time when it comes to stuff like this, but you're probably the first one he wants to talk to. "

"I'd have thought he'd want to talk to you."

"Why? I think I had him half-convinced I wanted to kill him the other night."

"Can you blame him? Hell, Elliot, you looked like you wanted to kill me."

"That's beside the point. You should go find him."  
"And what if he tells me to go away? Then what?"

"Then you ignore him and you stay, like you do with me. Make him talk."

"That's easier said than done."

"Then I guess you'd better get going, huh?"

Silence falls between them when Olivia doesn't answer. She twirls the pen she's holding between her fingers and looks away, hesitant. Elliot rolls his eyes and pushes at her foot again.

"We talked about this," he says, "I don't have a problem with you and him…at least, not anymore."

"I don't understand how you couldn't," she says, "I lied to you about almost everything…"

"Well, let's just say that you didn't _know _you were lying to me until a few days ago," says Elliot, cutting her off. "And I wasn't exactly forthcoming with you, either, so we're both at fault."

"It's funny how it takes something like this to make us realize that it wasn't going to work."

"Liv…" Elliot pauses for a moment, trying to think of what he wants to say before going on. "We might not have planned it to turn out this way, but look where it got us. Kathy and I are going to give it a second chance and you…you finally have a chance to be happy. Why can't you forget about whatever shadows you have hanging over you and just take it?"

The sound of footsteps cuts him off; they look up in time to see Fin leaving the squad room in order to give them privacy. When they can no longer hear him, Olivia replies, staring at her desk so she doesn't have to look her partner in the eye.

"Because I'm scared," she admits. "Munch and I are already friends and if we start a relationship and it goes south, it'll ruin everything. I don't think I could handle that."

"You've handled worse," Elliot says bluntly, and she sighs.

"That doesn't make this any easier," she says.

"I know that," says Elliot, "That's why you need to talk before this goes any further."

"Talking doesn't always work," says Olivia, "And besides that, I don't even know where the hell he went."

"Think about it," says Elliot. "Where did all of this start?" She gives him a look.

"It was nearly a year ago," she tells him, "You expect me to remember?"

"You remember everything else," Elliot says, shrugging. "Why wouldn't you remember this?"

Silence falls again after this. There isn't any excuse she can make after that; he knows it, and she knows it too, so she glares at him for a moment and then looks down at her paperwork. He rolls his eyes and turns back to his own, but after a while, the silence starts to grate on his nerves.

"Liv," he says, "If you're not going to talk to him, then I will."

"You do and I will _never_ talk to you again." The threat is an immature one, and empty at that; she told him the same thing last week, but had talked to him within a few hours. He knows this and smirks.

"Yeah, right," he tells her. "And I'm serious. If you don't, I will. "

"I don't even know where he is." Olivia protests, looking up from her paperwork to scowl in his direction. He shakes his head.

"Look for him, then," he says, "You'll find him if you really want to." She doesn't answer. Instead, she pushes at his feet a few minutes later, feeling suddenly guilty.

"Where did all of that come from?" she asks. He shrugs.

"I don't know," he replies, "I just don't like seeing you like this when I know there's a way to fix it."

"You think so?"

"Well, I would have left you alone a long time ago if I didn't," says Elliot. "Just go. If a call comes in, I'll grab Fin and we'll take care of it."

"All right, all right." Olivia rises to her feet and runs a hand through her hair, sighing. "If this goes wrong, it's on you."

"Fine," says Elliot, leaning back in his chair. "I don't care. Just go talk to him."

Olivia bends down and closes the files on her desk, casting a faint smile in her partner's direction before leaving the squad room. As soon as she does, it hits her: she _does_ remember where all of this started, and before she knows it, she's pushing open the door to the precinct rooftop.

Sure enough, Munch is there, leaning against the guardrails and staring down at the city. She knows when he stiffens that he heard the door slam closed and that he knows who came after him, but she waits.

"You shouldn't have come up here," he remarks finally, without looking at her.

"Why not?" she asks in reply, remaining where she is."

"Isn't it obvious?" Munch says, still without turning. "It'll only serve to make things worse than they already are."

"I have the feeling that things aren't going to get worse than this."

"How can they not? Your partner's about ready to kill me and you're probably right behind him. And I don't even want to _know_ what Fin has to say about all of this."

"Fin doesn't have anything to say, because if he did, he'd have said it before now."

"And how do you know he's not saying it while we're up here?"

"Because he left the squad room, and I don't know where he went."

"And your partner?"

"He's still here." Olivia takes a breath and closes her eyes, exhaling slowly. "He's the one who told me to come up here."

"Why?" For some reason, this simple question catches her off guard and she falters as she looks for an answer.

"Well, for starters, he's not mad at you," she says finally.

"So, what? He was just acting? Forgive me for sounding rude, Olivia, but I find that hard to believe."

"So I'm lying to you now, is that it?" Suddenly more angry than hurt by this statement, Olivia walks forward, stopping just short of him. "I'll bet you now you can't think of once time I've _ever_ lied to you."

No answer comes. She has half a mind at this point to force him to look at her, but she doesn't and silence falls. The sounds of the city float up towards them, but both of them ignore it and finally he speaks again.

"You're right," he says, turning to look at her this time. "I can't." He pauses for a moment and sighs before motioning down to the squad room. "But I also can't see why you would _want_ to have anything to do with me."

"Don't start that," she warns. "There is _nothing_ wrong with you." He gives a sarcastic laugh.

"Nothing wrong with me," he says. "There's one I haven't heard before." There's a subtle note of misery in his voice that she doesn't miss, and she moves so that she's standing beside him, placing a hand over his.

"Well, now you've heard it," she tells him quietly, "There's a first time for everything."

"Yeah, well….I think I've had one too many 'first times'," he replies, staring back down at the city. "You said it yourself; I've been around the block too many times."

"Did you really have to bring that up?" she asks, squirming slightly as that all-too-familiar feeling of guilt starts welling up inside of her again. "I already told you I didn't mean it."

"I know you did."

"Then why are you acting like I meant it if you know that?"

"Because whether you meant it or not, it's true. Do you remember what we talked about?"

"It's kind of hard to forget, considering," Olivia replies, shifting uncomfortably. "Why?"

"Because there was one other theory I forgot to mention," Munch answers quietly. "Some people stay single because they've already been burned too many times to want to go at it again, they've already been hurt enough to make them want to forget about even trying."

She knows what he's getting at, and it bothers her. She doesn't want him to hurt anymore, doesn't want him to feel as if love isn't something worth trying for anymore.

"There's always someone who can make them change their minds," she tells him. "Sooner or later, even those who've been hurt are going to find someone else to love them…someone who they love."

He laughs, but the sound is mirthless, and she doesn't like it. "You're more of an optimist than I thought," he says. "Do you really believe that there's someone for everyone?"

"Not all the time," she replies, keeping her hand on his, "But I do most of the time. It's possible that there _is_ someone for everyone, but it doesn't always seem that way."

"Yeah, well…" He trails off and turns, leaning back against the guardrails as he looks at her over his glasses. "You're right. It doesn't always seem that way, and it doesn't always work that way, either."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's supposed to mean that I'll bet you right now you couldn't name one person in this world who at this moment could love me the way I am."

Silence falls after this. She hesitates for a few seconds before reaching up and taking off his glasses so that she can see his eyes, and she's startled by what she sees there…a need to be accepted…a need for affection. She touches his face and he closes his eyes, biting his lip to keep from saying anything.

"You're wrong," she tells him, finally, quietly. "I can."

"Who, then?" he asks in reply, his voice barely a whisper. "Tell me." He sounds almost desperate, and she hates it, so she draws him against her, allowing him to hide his face in her neck.

"I could," she says, "And I do." He looks up at her then, startled by what he's heard, and unwilling to believe it.

"You?" he asks.

"Yes," she replies, smiling faintly at his expression. "Me."

And again, there is that silence, but this time…this time, it's different. Rain starts to fall then, starting out lightly, but picking up quickly, and before either of them know it, they're completely soaked, but neither of them care.

It's before they pull the rooftop access door open to go back into the precinct that he pulls her to him again, and this time, when he kisses her, both of them realize that they have finally found what they were missing.


End file.
